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kind recollection of me. I trust that you will not think me the less grateful to you, because I felt that I ought not to avail myself of the Chancellor's offer. Engaged as I am here, I could not reside upon a living, and I would not be satisfied to hold one without residence. I have always strenuously maintained that the clergy engaged in education should have nothing to do with church benefices, and I should be very unwilling to let my own practice contradict what I really believe to be a very wholesome doctrine. But I am sure that I value the offer quite as much, and feel as heartily obliged both to the Chancellor and you for it, as if I had accepted it.

In this day's number of the Register there is a letter on the "Cottage Evenings," condemning very decidedly their unchristian tone. It is not written by me, but I confess that I heartily agree with it. You know of old how earnestly I have wished to join your Useful Knowledge Society; and how heartily on many points I sympathize with them. This very work, the "Cottage Evenings," might be made every thing that I wish, if it were but decidedly Christian.. I delight in its plain and sensible tone, and it might be made the channel of all sorts of information, useful and entertaining; but, as it is, so far from co-operating with it, I must feel utterly averse to it. To enter into the deeper matters of conduct and principle, to talk of our main hopes and fears, and yet not to speak of Christ, is absolutely, to my mind, to circulate poison. In such points as this, "He that is not with us is against us."

It has occurred to me that the circumstance of some of the principal members of the Useful Knowledge Society being now in the government, is in itself a strong reason why the Society should take a more decided tone on matters of religion. Undoubtedly their support of that Society, as it now stands, is a matter of deep grief and disapprobation to a large proportion of the best men in this kingdom, while it encourages the hopes of some of the very worst. And it would be, I verily do think, one of the greatest possible public blessings, if, as they are honest, fearless, and enlightened against political corruption, and, as I hope they will prove, against ecclesiastical abuses also, so they would be no less honest and fearless and truly wise in labouring to Christianize the people, in spite of the sneers and opposition of those who understand full well that, if men do not worship God, they at once by that very omission worship most surely the power of evil.

You will smile at my earnestness or simplicity; but it does strongly excite me to see so great an engine as your Society, and one whose efforts I would so gladly co-operate with, and which could effect so easily what I alone am vainly struggling at, to see this engine at the very least neutralizing its power of doing good, and, I fear, doing in some respects absolute evil. On the other side, the Tories would not have my assistance in religious matters, because they so disapprove of my politics; and in the mean time the people, in this hour of their utmost need, get either the cold deism of the Cottage Evenings, or the folly of the Cottager's Monthly Visitor. Would the Committee accept my assistance for those

1) "There is something to me almost awful," he used to say, speaking of Lord Byron's Cain, "in meeting suddenly in the works of such a man, so great and solemn a truth as is expressed in that speech of Lucifer, 'He who bows not to God hath bowed to me."""

"Cottage Evenings ?" I would give a larger sum than I should be thought sane to mention, if I might but once see this great point effected.1

XXXIII. TO MRS. FLETCHER.
{(After the death of her Son.)

Rugby, August, 1831.

.. I know that you are rich in friends, and it seems like presumption in me to say it; but I entreat you earnestly to remember that M- and myself regard you and yours with such cordial respect and affection, that it would give us real pleasure, if either now or hereafter we can be of any use whatever in any arrangements to be made for your grandchildren. I feel that it would be a delight to me to be of any service to fatherless children, contemplating, as I often do, the possibility of myself or their dear mother being taken away from our own little ones. And I feel it the more, because I confess that I think evil days are threatening, insomuch that, whenever I hear of the death of any one that is dear to me, there mixes with my sense of my own loss a sort of joy that he is safe from the evil to come. Still more strong is my desire that all Christ's servants who are left, should draw nearer every day to him, and to one another, in every feeling and every work of love.

XXXIV. TO REV. DR. HAWKINS.

Skipton, July 11, 1821.

The Register is now dead, to revive however in another shape; but I could not afford at once to pay all, and to write all, and my nephew's own business hindered him from attending to it sufficiently, and it thus devolved on the mere publisher, who put in things of which I utterly disapproved. But the thing has excited attention in some quarters, just as I wished; all the articles on the labourers were copied at full length into one of the Sheffield papers, and, when the Register died, the Sheffield proprietor wrote up to our editor, wishing to engage the writer of those articles to continue them for his own paper. By a strange coincidence I happened to walk into the office of this very paper, at Sheffield, to look at the division on the Reform Bill, knowing nothing of the application made to our editor in town. I saw the long quotation from the Register, and as the proprietor of the paper happened to be in the shop, I talked to him about it, and finally told him who I was, and what were my objects in the Register. He spoke of those articles on the labourers being read with great interest by the mechanics and people of that class, and I have promised to send him a letter or two in continuation.

XXXV. TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

August 12, 1832.

Touching the Magazine, I think it deorepov λov in comparison with a weekly paper: but яλéov ĥμiσv návтos, I will join in it

1) From a long letter to the same." I cannot tell you how much I was delighted by the conclusion of the article on Mirabeau, in the Penny Magazine of May 12. That article is exactly a specimen of what I wished to see, but done far better than I could do it. I never wanted articles on religious subjects half so much as articles on common subjects written with a decidedly Christian tone. History and Biography are far better vehicles of good, I think, than any direct comments on Scripture, or essays on Evidences."

gladly, and, if required, try to undertake even the editorship, only let something be done. I found all the articles about the labourers in my Register had been copied into the Sheffield Courant, and the proprietor told me that they had excited some interest. Thus even a little seed may be scattered about, and produce more effect than we might calculate on; by all means let us sow while we can.

What do Mayo and you say to the Cholera? Have you read the accounts of the great fifty years' pestilence of the 6th century, or that of the 14th, both of which seem gradually to have travelled like the cholera ? How much we have to learn about the state of the atmosphere and the causes that affect it. It seems to me that there must be a "morbus coli," which at particular periods favours the spread of disorders, and thus, although the cholera is contagious, yet it also originates in certain constitutions under a certain state of atmosphere, and then is communicated by contagion to many who would not have originated it themselves; while many again are so antipathetic to it, that neither contagion nor infection will give it them. Agathias says that the old Persian and Egyptian philosophers held that there were certain periodical revolutions of time, fraught with evil to the human race, and others, during which they were exempt from the worst sort of visitations. This is mysticism; yet, from Thucydides downwards, men have remarked that these visitations do not come single: and, although the connexion between plague and famine is obvious, yet that between plague and volcanic phenomena is not so and yet these have been coincident in the most famous instances of long travelling pestilences hitherto on record. Nor is there much natural connexion between the ravages of epidemic disease, and a moral and political crisis in men's minds, such as we now seem to be witnessing.

XXXVI. TO REV. F. C. BLACKSTONE.

(In answer to a question about Irvingism at Port Glasgow.)

.

Rugby, Oct. 25, 1831.

If the thing be real, I should take it merely as a sign of the coming of the day of the Lord,-the only use, as far as I can make out, that ever was derived from the gift of tongues. I do not see that it was ever made a vehicle of instruction, or ever superseded the study of tongues, but that it was merely a sign of the power of God, a man being for the time transformed into a mere instrument to utter sounds which he himself understood not. However, whether this be a real sign or no, I believe that "the day of the Lord" is coming, i. e. the termination of one of the great aives of the human race; whether the final one of all or not, that I believe no created being knows or can know. The termination of the Jewish air in the first century, and of the Roman aid in the fifth and sixth, were each marked by the some concurrence of calamities, wars, tumults, pestilences, earthquakes, &c., all marking the time of one of God's peculiar seasons of visitation.1 And society in Europe seems going on fast for a similar revolution, out of which Christ's

1) For the same belief in the connexion of physical with moral convulsions, see Niebuhr, Lebers-nach-richten, ii. p. 167. It may be as well to add, that the view above expressed of the apostolical gift of tongues, was founded on a deliberate study of the passages which relate to it, especially 1 Cor. xiv. 14. 13. 28. 21.

Church will emerge in a new position, purified, I trust, and strengthened by the destruction of various earthly and evil mixtures that have corrupted it. But I have not the slightest expectation of what is commonly meant by the Millennium, and I wonder more and more that any one can so understand Scripture as to look for it. As for the signs of the times in England, I look nowhere with confidence; politically speaking, I respect and admire the present government. The ministry, I sincerely believe, would preserve all our institutions by reforming them; but still I cannot pretend to say that they would do this on the highest principles, or that they keep their eye on the true polar star, how skilfully soever they may observe their charts, and work their vessel. But even in this I think them far better than the Tories. We talk, as much as we dare talk of any thing two months distant, of going to the Lakes in the winter, that I may get on in peace with Thucydides, and enjoy the mountains besides.

XXXVII. TO W. W. HULL, ESQ.

Rugby, October 26, 1831.

I spear daily, as the Lydians used to play in the famine, that I may at least steal some portion of the day from thought. My family, the school, and, thank God the town also, are all full of restful and delightful thoughts and images. All there is but the scene of wholesome and happy labour, and has much to refresh the inward man, with as little to disturb him as this earth, since Paradise, could, I believe, ever present to any one individual. But my sense of the evils of the times, and to what prospects I am bringing up my children, is overwhelmingly bitter. All in the moral and physical world appears so exactly to announce the coming of the "great day of the Lord," i. e. a period of fearful visitation to terminate the existing state of things, whether to terminate the whole existence of the human race, neither man nor angel knows, that no entireness of private happiness can possibly close my mind against the sense of it. Meantime it makes me very anxious to do what work I can, more especially as I think the prospect of the cholera makes life even more than ordinarily uncertain; and I am inclined to think, from my own peculiar constitution, that I should be very likely to be attacked by it.

I believe I told you that I am preparing for the press a new volume of Sermons, and I wish a small book on the Evidences to accompany them; not a book to get up like Paley, but taking the real way in which the difficulties present themselves, half moral, half intellectual, to the mind of an intelligent and well-educated young man; a book which, by God's blessing may be a real stay in that state of mind when neither an address to the intellect alone, nor one to the moral feelings, is alone most likely to answer. And I wish to make the main point not the truth of Christianity per se, as a theorem to be proved, but the wisdom of our abiding by it, and whether there is any thing else for it but the life of beast or of devil. I should like to do this, if I could, before I die; for for I think that times are coming when the Devil will fight his best in

1) This he partially accomplished in the 17th Sermon in the second volume, and the 18th and 19th in the third. The work itself was begun, but never finished.

good earnest. I must not write any more, for work rises on every side open mouthed upon me.

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XXXVIII. TO REV. JULIUS HARE.

November 9, 1831.

(After thanking him for the first number of the Philological Museum, and wishing him success.) For myself, I am afraid Thucydides will have shown you that I am a very poor philologist, and my knowledge is too superficial on almost every point to enable me to produce any thing worth your having; and to say the truth, every moment of spare time I wish to devote to writing on Religion or λirik. I use the Greek word, because I know I can do politics" is commonly taken in a much baser sense. Liberavi animam meam" is a consobut little, perhaps nothing, but the lation; and I would fain not see every thing good and beautiful sink in ruin, without making a single effort to lessen the mischief. Since the death of the Register, I am writing constantly in one of the Sheffield papers, the proprietor of which I earnestly believe sincerely wishes to do good.

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I heartily sympathize with the feeling of your concluding paragraphin your note I mean-but who dare look forward now to any thing?

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XXXIX. TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

Rugby, November 8, 1831. I cannot You must not go to Ireland without a few lines from me. yet be reconciled to your being on the other side of St. George's Channel, or to thinking of Oxford as being without you. I do not know where to look for the Mezentius who should "succedat pugnæ," when Turnus is gone away. My great ignorance about Ireland is also very inconvenient to me in thinking about your future operations, as I do not know what most wants mending there, or what is likely to be the disposition to mend it in those with whom you will be surrounded. But you must not go out with words of evil omen; and, indeed, I do anticipate happpiness for you, seeing that happiness consists, according to our dear old friend, èv ivepycin, and of that you are likely to have enough.

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I am a coward about schools, and yet I have not the satisfaction of being a coward xarà πpoαípɛσiv; for I am inclined to think that the trials of a school are useful to a boy's after character, and thus I dread not to expose my boys to it; while, on the other hand, the immediate effect of it is so ugly, that, like washing one's hands with earth, one shrinks from dirting them so grievously in the first stage of the process. ... I cannot get over my sense of the fearful state of public affairs :-is it clean hopeless that the Church will come forward and crave to be allowed to reform itself? . I can have no confidence in what would be in men like but a deathbed repentance. It can only be done effectually by those who have not, through many a year of fair weather, turned a deaf ear to the voice of reform, and will now be thought only to obey it, because they cannot help it. If I were indeed a Radical, and hated the Church, and longed for a democracy, I should be jolly enough, and think that all was plain sailing; but as it is, I verily think that neither my spirits nor my occupation, nor even spearing itself, will enable me to be cheerful under such an awful prospect of public evils.

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