and keep a sort of diary. I was presently religious in my own eyes; but alas! this seeming goodness had no solid foundation, but passed away like a morning cloud, or the early dew. I was soon weary, gradually gave it up, and became worse than before. Instead of prayer, I learned to curse and blaspheme, and was exceedingly wicked when from under my parent's view. All this was before I was twelve years old. About that time I had a dangerous fall from a horse; I was thrown, I believe, within a few inches of a hedge-row newly cut down. I got no hurt, but could not avoid taking notice of a gracious Providence in my deliverance; for had I fallen upon the stakes, I had inevitably been killed. My conscience suggested to me the dreadful consequences, if, in such a state, I had been summoned to appear before God. I presently broke off from my profane practices, and appeared quite altered; but it was not long before I declined again. These struggles between sin and conscience were often repeated; but the consequence was, that every relapse sunk me into still greater depths of wickedness. I was once roused by the loss of an intimate companion. We had agreed to go on board a man of war (I think it was on a Sunday); but I providentially came too late: the boat was overset, and he and several others were drowned. I was invited to the funeral of my playfellow, and was exceedingly affected, to think, that by a delay of a few minutes (which had much displeased and angered me till I saw the event) my life had been preserved. However this likewise was soon forgot. At another time, the perusal of the Family Instructor put me upon a partial and transient reformation. In brief, though I cannot distinctly relate particulars, I think I took up and laid aside a religious profession three or four different

times before I was sixteen years of age; but all this while my heart was insincere. I often saw a necessity of religion, as a means of escaping hell; but I loved sin, and was unwilling to forsake it. Instances of this, I can remember, were frequent in the midst of all my forms; I was so strangely blind and stupid, that sometimes when I have been determined upon things which I knew were sinful and contrary to my duty, I could not go on quietly, till I had first despatched my ordinary task of prayer, in which I have grudged every moment of my time; and when this was finished, my conscience was in some measure pacified, and I could rush into folly with little

remorse.

My last reform was the most remarkable, both for degree and continuance. Of this period, at least of some part of it, I may say, in the Apostle's words, "After the strictest sect of our religion, I lived a Pharisee." I did every thing that might be expected from a person entirely ignorant of God's righteousness, and desirous to establish his own. I spent the greatest part of every day in reading the Scriptures, meditation and prayer; I fasted often; I even abstained from all animal food for three months; I would hardly answer a question, for fear of speaking an idle word. I seemed to bemoan my former miscarriages very earnestly, sometimes with tears. In short, I became an ascetic, and endeavoured, so far as my situation would permit, to renounce society, that I might avoid temptation. I continued in this serious mood (I cannot give it a higher title) for more than two years, without any considerable breaking off. But it was a poor religion; it left me in many respects under the power of sin, and so far as it prevailed, only tended to make me gloomy, stupid, unsociable, and useless.

Such was the frame of my mind, when I became acquainted with Lord Shaftesbury. I saw the second volume of his Characteristics, in a petty shop at Middleburgh in Holland. The title allured me to buy it, and the style and manner gave me great pleasure in reading, especially the second piece, which his lordship with great propriety has entitled A Rhapsody. Nothing could be more suited to the romantic turn of my mind, than the address of this pompous declamation. Of the design and tendency I was not aware. I thought the author a most religious person, and that I had only to follow him and be happy. Thus, with fine words and fair speeches, my simple heart was beguiled. This book was always in my hand; I read it till I could very nearly repeat the Rhapsody verbatim from beginning to end. No immediate effect followed; but it operated like a slow poison, and prepared the way for all that followed.

This brings my history down to December 1742. I was then lately returned from a voyage; and my father not intending me for the sea again, was thinking how to settle me in the world. But I had little life or spirit for business; I knew but little of men and things. I was fond of a visionary scheme of a contemplative life, a medley of religion, philosophy, and indolence: and was quite averse to the thoughts of an industrious application to business. At length a merchant in Liverpool, an intimate friend of my father's, to whom, as the instrument of God's goodness, I have since been chiefly indebted for all my earthly comforts, proposed to send me for some years to Jamaica, and to charge himself with the care of my future fortune. I consented to this, and every thing was prepared for my voyage. I was upon the point of setting out the following week. În the mean time, my father sent

me on some business to a place a few miles beyond Maidstone in Kent; and this little journey, which was to have been only for three or four days, occasioned a sudden and remarkable turn, which roused me from the habitual indolence I had contracted, and gave rise to the series of uncommon dispensations, of which you desire a more particular account. So true it is, that "the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps."

A few days before my intended journey into Kent, I received an invitation to visit a family in that county. They were distant relations, but very intimate friends of my dear mother. She died in their house; but a coolness took place upon my father's second marriage, and I had heard nothing of them for many years. As my road lay within half a mile of their house, I obtained my father's leave to call on them. I was, however, very indifferent about it, and sometimes thought of passing on. However, I went. I was known at first sight, before I could tell my name, and met with the kindest reception, as the child of a dear deceased friend. My friends had two daughters. The eldest (as I understood some years afterwards) had been often considered by her mother and mine, as a future wife for me, from the time of her birth. I know, indeed, that intimate friends frequently amuse themselves with such distant prospects for their children, and that they miscarry much oftener than succeed. I do not say that my mother predicted what was to happen; yet there was something remarkable in the manner of its taking place. All intercourse between the families had been long broken off. I was going into a foreign country, and only called to pay a hasty visit; and this I should not have thought of, but for a message received just at that

crisis, for I had not been invited at any time before. Thus, the circumstances were precarious in the highest degree, and the event was as extraordinary. Almost at the first sight of this girl (for she was then under fourteen), I was impressed with an affection for her, which never abated or lost its influence a single moment in my heart from that hour. In degree, it actually equalled all that the writers of romance have imagined-in duration, it was unalterable. I soon lost all sense of religion, and became deaf to the remonstrances of conscience and prudence: but my regard for her was always the same; and I may perhaps venture to say, that none of the scenes of misery and wickedness I afterwards experienced, ever banished her a single hour together from my waking thoughts, for the seven following years.

Give me leave, Sir, to reflect a little upon this unexpected incident, and to consider its influence upon my future life, and how far it was subservient to the views of Divine Providence concerning me, which seem to have been twofold; that by being given up for a while to the consequences of my own wilfulness, and afterwards reclaimed by a high hand, my case, so far as it should be known, might be both a warning and an encouragement to others.

In the first place, hardly any thing less than this violent and commanding passion, would have been sufficient to awaken me from the dull melancholy habit I had contracted. I was almost a misanthrope, notwithstanding I so much admired the pictures of virtue and benevolence as drawn by Lord Shaftesbury: but now my reluctance to active life was overpowered at once, and I was willing to be or to do any thing, which might subserve the accomplishment of my wishes at some future time.