you watched it every day, you would hardly have perceived that it grew at all. May I not hope that there is at least a little seed of a gracious desire already put in your heart? If so, may the Lord, who alone could plant it, water it with his blessing, and cause it to increase; if not, it is my daily prayer, that it may be so; and I hope it is your prayer for yourself. I pray that you may live and die with the righteous: it is said of them, They have hope in their death; and that when they see him approach, they shall say, "O death, where is thy sting!"

Your mamma and I love you dearly, and hope we shall always have reason to love you more and

more.

I'am your affectionate.

LETTER XV.

May 12, 1783.

I HAVE just now received my child's short and sweet letter; and, having nothing to prevent me, I begin my answer to it immediately.

The snow does not often cover the ground in the neighbourhood of London so late as the 8th of May; but it has been so sometimes. One reason you were surprised at the sight is, because you are young, and this is the first instance, perhaps, in the few years you have been able to take notice. You will meet with many other things, as you grow up, which will surprise you for the like reason: for want of experience, you will not expect them. We expect flowers on the ground in May, and not snow; so those pleasures the prospects of which

present themselves to your mind and appear at a distance as beautiful as we usually conceive a May morning to be, when we talk of it in winter will not always answer expectation. When the time comes, something which you do not think of, unseasonable as snow in May, will come with it, and you will be surprised and disappointed; especially at first, and till you are used to these changes. By the time you are as old as I am now, you will not wonder so much; and I hope, long before that, the Lord will teach you to profit by such things. It is necessary we should find all to be uncertain and unsatisfying in the present world, or we should be contented with it, and not think of a better. One reason why young people are but seldom serious is, because the world appears so pleasing and so promising. They expect roses without thorns, and May without snow. The Lord make you wise by times, that you may remember and seek him now in the days of your youth, before the evil days come (for come they will), when you will find no pleasure in them.

Such days are come very early to Miss B

I wish, if it were practicable, that all the misses in all the schools in London could see her. What are the pleasure and gaity which the most are thinking of, now to her! shut up as she is, in the bloom of life, unable to move herself, and with pain her constant companion day and night! I have been much affected with looking at her; but I believe I shall not see her long. Within these three days she has been much worse. I was with her twice yesterday; and I have been with her again this morning. The doctors think she cannot live many days; and she thinks so too. I am glad to find that she is not unwilling to die. If her affliction has been sanctified to lead her heart to the Lord, then, instead

of greatly pitying her, we shall rejoice in her be half. It is better to be sick or lame, or full of pain, and seeking after him, than to live what is commonly deemed a happy life without God in the world.

Cannot you contrive to put your lines a little closer together? Your paper looks like a half-furnished room. I want a good long letter; I care not what it is about, so that you write easily. You read sometimes; cannot you find something in your books to tell me of? You walk sometimes, and without doubt look about you. Take notice of any thing that strikes your eye; make some reflection or observation upon it, and then put up your thoughts very safely in a corner of your memory, that you may send them to me the next time you write. I love a long letter, especially from you, because I love you a great deal.

Adieu, the Lord bless you, is the prayer of

MY DEAR CHILD,

Your affectionate.

LETTER XVI.

May 19, 1783.

IF your sensibility drops a tear or two when you are informed that your aunt C- is removed from this world of sin and sorrow, I have no objection; but I do not wish you to shed many, nor is there just cause for it. If we could see her now, she would surely say," Weep not for me, I am happy!" Yes, she knew and loved the Lord; she lived in his faith and fear, and died in his peace and favour; and now

Me

she is before the throne. She had her share of trials in this life, but they are all over now: she fought the good fight, and the Lord made her more than conqueror. Now she has received the conqueror's crown, and is singing the conqueror's song. thinks, dearly as I love you, I could bear to part with you likewise, if I was sure that the Lord had set his seal of love upon your heart, and thereby marked you for his own. If he has not done this already, I hope he will. If he has not yet taken full possession of your heart, I hope you are sensible that he is standing, as it were, at the door, and knocking, waiting to be gracious to you. The door of the heart is not easily opened. The love of sin, of self, and the world, are so many bolts, which are too strong for us to remove by our own power; yet he can open it easily (because all things are easy to him), and, by a sweet constraint of love, force himself an entrance. I hope you are willing that he should do this; and that you are not willing to do any thing on your part that may grieve him, and cause him to withdraw and leave you to your. self. You cannot do much : you can, indeed, do nothing spiritually of yourself. Yet there is something for you to do; you are to wait, and pray, and long for his blessing; you are to read his word, and to endeavour to make it the rule of your conduct, so far as you understand it; you are to attend to his voice in your conscience, and not wilfully allow yourself in what you know to be wrong. This is the path in which my heart's desire and prayer is that you may walk at present; and then in due time the promise shall be fulfilled to you which says, "Then shall 66 you know, if you follow on to know the Lord Hosea vi. 3.

You may believe we had some weeping at home upon this occasion. But the Lord is very good.Vol. II. D

Your mamma has been supported, and is pretty well.

I long to see you, and especially now, that we may read Mr. Gray's Elegy together. I hope we shall be permitted to be with you on the famous exhibition day, and I please myself with the thought, that you will appear to advantage. I wish, for your own sake, you could get the better of that trepidation and hurry which discomposes you when the eyes of company are upon you; but it is a fault on the right side, and much better than a bold, pert, self-confident carriage, which is very disgusting in some young people; but there is a medium which I wish you to aim at.

I am your affectionate.

LETTER XVII.

MY DEAR CHILD,

June 11, 1783.

I THANK you for your last letter, which pleased me and your mamma very much. We thought it well written, and well expressed. Take as much care as you please how you write, and use as little study as you please, what to write. When you are surrounded with the beauties of nature, you need not puzzle your self with thinking what to say first, but set down first what first occurs to your mind: when you have written that, something else will offer. Try to write just what you think, and write as often and as largely as your many important businesses will allow; for nothing but practice will give you a habit of writing easily and practice will do it. We could fill up as large a sheet as you, with repeating how much we

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