apprehension, useful as giving us occasion and incitement to uphold and promote better things as far as we can. My little Charlotte is daily amused with the little organ you were so kind as to give her, and looks at your picture as the donor of it. As her mamma is writing to you, I leave her to speak for herself, and will merely add that I always remain Most sincerely yours, BADEN POWell. P.S.-You have probably heard of the elevation of Dr. Dickinson to the See of Meath. 20th. Wrote to H. and Louisa Bishop, allowing them to put £15 at Cocks'. To Professor Powell. My dear B. Powell, Liverpool, Nov. 20th, 1840. I must thank you for your interesting Note; but I will not repeat the history of my calamities, which you may learn from my letter to your Wife. I fear that I have come to live near one of the Liverpool centres of Rheumatism; but there is no help. Your description of the effects produced by the fable of the Church is perfectly correct. It is the most effectual disguise for dishonesty of all degrees. It will be hard for the true friends of Veracity to counteract the charms of that Circe. As to myself, with the exception of these my last agonies, I gladly say cursum consummavi. I am glad of Dr. Dickinson's appointment, more for the Archbishop's sake, than for any thing he can or will do. I am very much fatigued, so adieu, my kind, my honest friend. Yours, ever affectionately, J. BLANCO WHITE. From Dr. Dickinson, late Bishop of Meath. My dear Friend, Nov. 24th. It was very kind indeed that you should write to me from your bed of sickness. I lament you should have suffering, but you feel God's will be done. I am called to a difficult and most responsible office. I trust and pray I may not forget its duties. I am sure you can understand both my feelings and my reasons for not dwelling on them. I have endeavoured to obtain the Examiner,* because you stated the sentiments to be yours. But I have failed. I must not weary you-but be assured I feel your kindness most deeply. Do oblige me by always adopting the second part of your address,-"my dear old friend." I like that title, but you and I look upon what preceded it, as the tinkling brass, and it need not sound in our ears. May God bless you-if we meet not in this world, I doubt not we shall meet when sighing and sorrow shall have passed away. Believe me, my dear and good old friend, Yours, most cordially, CHARLES DICKINSON. 25th. A great attack of inflammation; the distress so great, that I really believed I should die in the course of a few hours. [* In which his elevation to the Bishopric of Meath was noticed with strong approbation.] My dear Sir, From Professor Norton. Cambridge, (near Boston,) 25th November 1840. I feel very sensibly your kindness in writing under circumstances of so much bodily infirmity and pain, and value highly the expression of your regard. I beg you to be thoroughly assured that no difference of opinion can affect my estimate of your worth and integrity. I presumed that you would not agree with the sentiments I expressed in my Discourse and the pamphlet which followed it, and, therefore, did not send you copies of them, as I otherwise should have done, and as I might have done had you been in the vigour of life, and permitted by bodily strength fully to express your objections to them. But I have never felt a zeal for making individual converts, and never attempted to do so by private discussion. My opinions and the reasons for them I have given to the public, and then left them to produce what effect they might among the vast mass of other influences operating on the minds of men. I lately had occasion to express to a highly orthodox correspondent my sincere respect for his character. As regards you, every one capable of judging correctly of moral worth must feel the highest admiration for the determined conscientiousness which has guided you through life in the adoption and profession of your belief, and contemplate as an example for himself and others, the irreproachable integrity with which you have made every sacrifice that duty called for. It is the exhibition of these qualities in some of your writings, it is the laying open of your own mind in them, it is their thorough trustworthiness, which, beyond all their other merits, causes them to be among the most interesting works in English literature. Of the truth of Christianity, as a miraculous revelation from God, after having given the subject as thorough attention as was in my power, and with as little external bias upon my mind of any sort as falls to the lot of most men, I have no more doubt than of any moral truth whatever. This conviction is the necessary foundation of my religious faith and hopes. If the want of this conviction have weakened your hopes, I should deeply regret it. I should be sorry to know that your faith was weaker than my own, that you are soon about to enter on a life of unending joy. But I should regret it as the misfortune, not as the fault of a friend; and I should at the same time remember that you are near, and I cannot be far distant from, a state where the doubts and errors as well as the sufferings of this life will end. There, perhaps, we may resume the subject on which we at present differ, though there it will cease to be a subject for discussion. I thank you for your kindness in sending me a list of your writings. Mrs. Norton desires her affectionate remembrances to you, and joins me in the wish that you may have every alleviation and comfort your present state admits. Continue to think of me, my dear Sir, as very sincerely Your Friend, ANDREWS NORTON. 28th. A very restless night: changed my bed into the parlour. Then began a string of calls: C. Zulueta, who stayed a long time, during which Mr. Archer called; he thought the swelling in the neck looked like a carbuncle. Zulueta remained, and I talked a great deal about my Spanish fragments, which I believe he intends to conclude, according to my verbal sketch. Mrs. H. T came immediately after, but I feared to talk more; then Dr. Sutherland, who stayed a considerable time. Sunday, Nov. 29th. As miserable as Sundays are usually with me. I felt so oppressed by solitude in the afternoon, that I desired Margaret to sit in the room that I might see a human being. Dec. 2nd. Desperately ill in the morning : sent for Dr. Sutherland, who sent for Mr. Archer. Gave Mr. Thom some directions, in case of my death, which I was persuaded would be occasioned by the bowels. I had written several of these directions, and gave them to him. My physicians do not think death to be at hand, but I am quite prepared. December 4th. Copy of a Letter sent this day. To the Rev. Mr. Trew, Secretary to the African Civilization Rev. Sir, Society. Carlisle Cottage, Liverpool, A circular signed by you some months ago, induced me to subscribe to the African Civilization Society. You will find my name as B. White, Esq., though I wrote to my Bankers requesting them to use my proper style of Reverend Joseph Blanco White. When however the impulse given |