the Protestants in return only charged them with error and superstition, till some of the hotter sort, impatient of such an unequal rejoinder, bethought themselves of retorting with the charge of damnable idolatry. But still I think that we have the best of it, in not letting what we firmly believe to be error and ignorance shake our sense of that mightier bond of union, which exists between all those who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity; perhaps I should say, in not letting our sense of the magnitude of the error lead us to question the sincerity of the love.

I must conclude with a more delightful subject-my most dear and blessed sister. I never saw a more perfect instance of the spirit of power and of love, and of a sound mind; intense love, almost to the annihilation of selfishness-a daily martyrdom for twenty years, during which she adhered to her early-formed resolution of never talking about herself; thoughtful about the very pins and ribands of my wife's dress, about the making of a doll's cap for a child,—but of herself, save only as regarded her ripening in all goodness, wholly thoughtless, enjoying everything lovely, graceful, beautiful, high-minded, whether in God's works or man's, with the keenest relish; inheriting the earth to the very fulness of the promise, though never leaving her crib, nor changing her posture; and preserved through the very valley of the shadow of death, from all fear or impatience, or from every cloud of impaired reason, which might mar the beauty of Christ's Spirit's glorious work. May God grant that I might come but within one hundred degrees of her place in glory. God bless you all.

LIV. TO J. T. COLERIDGE, ESQ.

Rugby, September 17, 1832.

Much has happened since April, but nothing to me of so much interest as the death of my dear sister Susannah, after twentyone years of suffering. We were called up hastily to Laleham in June, hardly expecting then to find her alive; but she rallied again and we went down with all our family to the Lakes for the holidays, intending to return to Laleham for a short time before the end of the vacation. But the accounts became worse, and we went up to

a Susannah Arnold died at Laleham, August 20, 1832, after a complaint in the spine of twenty years' duration.

her, leaving the children at the Lakes, towards the end of July. We spent more than a fortnight at Laleham, and returned to Rugby on the 18th of August, expecting, or at least not despairing of seeing her again in the winter. On the 23rd, we heard from Mrs. Buckland, to say that all was over; she had died on the night of the 21st, so suddenly that the Bucklands could not be called from the next house in time. The last months, I may say indeed the last twenty years of her life, had been a constant preparation, and she was only spared the nervous fear which none probably can wholly overcome, of expecting the approach of death within a definite time. I never saw nor ever heard of a more complete triumph over selfishness, a more glorious daily renewing of soul and spirit amidst the decays and sufferings of the body, than was displayed throughout her twenty years' martyrdom. My poor aunt, well comparatively speaking in body, but decayed sadly in her mind, still lives in the same house, close to the Bucklands; the only remaining survivor of what I call the family of my childhood. I attach a very peculiar value to the common articles of furniture, the mere pictures, and china, and books, and candlesticks, &c., which I have seen grouped together in my infancy, and whilst my aunt still keeps them, it seems to me as if my father's house were not quite broken up.

You may have heard, perhaps, that great as is the loss of this dear sister, I was threatened with one still heavier in May last. My wife was seized with a most virulent sore throat, which brought on a premature confinement, and for some time my distress was greater than it has been since her dangerous illness in 1821. But she was mercifully recovered, not however without the loss of our little baby, a beautiful little girl, who just lived for seven days, and then drooped away and died of no other disorder than her premature birth. We had nothing but illness in our house during the whole spring; wife, children, servants, all were laid up one after the other, and for some time I never got up in the morning without hearing of some new case, either amongst my own family or amongst the boys. Then came the cholera at Newbold: and I thought that, beat as we were by such a succession of illnesses, we were in no condition to encounter this new trouble; and therefore, with the advice of our medical men, I hastily dispersed the school. We went down bodily to the Lakes, and took possession of Brathay Hall, a large house and large domain, just on the head of Winandermere. It was like Tinian to Anson's crew; never was there such a renewal of strength

and spirits as our children experienced from their six weeks' sojourn in this Paradise. And for their mamma and papa, the month that we spent there was not less delightful. Our intimacy with the Wordsworths was cemented, and scenery and society together made the time a period of enjoyment, which it seemed almost wholesome for us not to have longer continued, μὴ νοστοῖς λαθώμεθα.

And now we are all at work again, the school very full, very healthy, and I think in a most beautiful temper; the Sixth Form working μάλιστα κατ ̓ εὐχὴν, and all things at present promising. I am quite well, and enjoying my work exceedingly. May I only remember that, after all, the true work is to have a daily living faith in Him whom God sent. Send me a letter to tell me fully about you and yours; it is sad that we can never meet, but we must write oftener. Business ought not so to master us as not to leave time for a better business, and one which I trust will last longer, for I love to think that Christian friendships may be part of the business of eternity. God ever bless you.

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE, JANUARY 1833 TO SEPTEMBER 1835.

His alarm about the state of the poor naturally subsided with the tranquillization of the disturbances amongst the rural population, but was succeeded by an alarm almost as great, lest the political agitation which, in 1832, took the form of the cry for Church Reform, should end in destroying what, with all its defects, seemed to him the greatest instrument of social and moral good existing in the country. It was this strong conviction, which, in 1833, originated his pamphlet on "the Principles of Church Reform." "I hung back," he said, "as long as I could, till the want was so urgent that I sat down to write, because I could not help it." But with him preservation was only another word for reform; and here the reform proposed was great in proportion as he thought the stake at issue was dear, and the danger formidable. "Most earnestly do I wish to see the Establishment reformed," was the closing sentence of his Postscript, "at once, for the sake of its greater security, and its greater perfection: but, whether reformed or not, may God in his mercy save us from the calamity of seeing it destroyed!" As much of the misunderstanding of his character arose from a partial knowledge of this pamphlet, and of his object in writing it, it may be as well to give, in his own words, the answer which he made to a friend, in 1840, to a general charge of indiscretion brought against him.

"It seems to me that the charge of 'Indiscretion,' apart of course from the truth or error of the opinions expressed, belongs only to my Church Reform pamphlet. Now, I am quite ready to allow,

that to publish such a pamphlet in 1840, or indeed at any period since 1834, would have been the height of indiscretion. But I wrote that pamphlet in 1833, when most men-myself among the number-had an exaggerated impression of the strength of the movement party, and of the changes which it was likely to effect. My pamphlet was written on the supposition-not implied, but expressed repeatedly-that the Church Establishment was in extreme danger; and therefore I proposed remedies, which, although I do still sincerely believe them to be in themselves right and good, yet would be manifestly chimerical, and to advise them might well be called indiscreet, had not the danger and alarm, as I supposed, been imminent. I mistook, undoubtedly, both the strength and intenseness of the movement, and the weakness of the party opposed to it; but I do not think that I was singular in my error-many persisted in it; Lord Stanley, for example, even in 1834 and the subsequent years—many even hold it still, when experience has proved its fallacy. But the startling nature of my proposals, which I suppose constitutes what is called their indiscretion, is to be judged by the state of things in 1832-3, and not by that of times present. Jephson finds that his patients will adopt a very strict diet, when they believe themselves to be in danger; but he would be very indiscreet if he prescribed it to a man who felt no symptons of indisposition, for the man would certainly laugh at him, although perhaps the diet would do him great good, if he could be induced to adopt it."

The plan of the pamphlet itself is threefold; a defence of the national Establishment, a statement of the extreme danger to which it was exposed, and a proposal of what seemed to him the only means of averting this danger :-first, by a design for comprehending the Dissenters within the pale of the Establishment, without compromise of principle on either side; secondly, by various details intended to increase its actual efficiency. The sensation created by the appearance of this pamphlet was considerable. Within six months of its publication it passed through four editions. It was quoted with approbation and condemnation by men of the most opposite parties, though with far more of condemnation than of approbation. Dissenters objected to its attacks on what he conceived to be their sectarian narrowness,—the Clergy of the Establishment to its supposed