1822.] 
His dispensation, and humbly confess 
that my sins have deserved far greater 
punishments than I suffer. Yet still 
I fear my submission is imperfect, 
since I cannot more cheerfully resign 
the happiness I possessed in the best 
of sons, and most valuable young crea- 
ture I ever saw. Yet his happiness, 
which I cannot doubt of, ought to stop 
the current of my tears, and direct my 
thoughts to that happy place, where I 
trust he rests with God, in full assu- 
rance of a joyful resurrection. . This 
is the point upon which I would fix 
my eyes; but, alas! my heavy heart 
sinks me in the dust, and too often 
earries my thoughts to contemplate the 
joy, the pride, the business of my life, 
mouldering in his coffin, and represents 
my loss with greater force, than the 
invisible joys which he partakes, to 
my imagination. Such is the frailty 
of this mortal state, where we see 
things through a glass darkly. I do 
not know whether our poor fellow- 
mourners are yet set out with their 
dear sad charge; if they ever arrive, 
they will find themselves independant, 
—a poor amends for their deplorable 
loss, but the only one we could make. 
Feb. 7, 1745. 
¥ cannot much affect my 
quict, since the sad loss I have sus- 
tained has at least had the good effect 
of completely weaning my heart from 
all the joys or sorrows which people 
feel from the enjoyment or disappoint- 
ment of worldly advantages.—A pain- 
fer in London has made a copy of dear 
Lord B.’s picture, and my poor lord is 
going to have a full-length by the same 
hand, to preserve to his family the re- 
semblance of what we had reason to 
hope would have donc them greater 
and more substantial honour than all 
their distinguished titles; but he is far 
happicr than this vain world could 
make him, and I ought cheerfully to 
submit to the awful decree of unerring 
wisdom and infinite mercy. Had he 
been capable of , like 
how much harder a task should I have 
found it to reconcile my heart to sce 
the darling hope of it make so despi- 
cable a figure, and betray so depraved 
an understanding, than to resign a vir- 
{uous and deserving child into the 
hands of his merciful Saviour ! 
I thank you for your good advice, 
and find, as you say, that the Bible is 
the best comforter. 
Aug, 23. 
-—--—You never need be apprehen- 
Stephensiana— No. VII, 
331 
sive that, by speaking on the subject 
of your last, you should renew an afflic- 
tion, which is eyer present to my 
mind; yet I bless God it is not so 
piercing as at the first, hefore my mind 
became habituated to the melancholy 
idea of never seeing in this world what 
was the dearest object of my eyes, and 
a constant support to me under eyery 
vexation. All things that I wished or 
designed centred in him; now I miss 
him in all, and [ believe it is the best 
situation forme. The earth has lost its 
strongest attraction, and therefore I 
hope [ shall leave it as a traveller does 
an indifferent inn, where he only took 
up a lodging to refresh himself, in 
order the better to pursue his journey 
the succeeding day ; and, if I can only 
go through the time which is allotted 
for my weary pilgrimage with inno- 
cence, I may hope that all my sorrow 
will end with it. “iy 
Poor W— supports his share better 
than I could have expected, and is a 
strong instance of the support religion 
affords even to the most tender and de- 
jected spirits. 
I am very glad they are at last safe 
arrived, but 1 own I dread the hour of 
meeting them. How different will it 
be from what I onée flattered myself! 
but I desire to submit, since the dis- 
pensations of a wise and merciful God 
must always be best for us, however 
repugnant to our weak and foolish 
wills. The dear son I lament is hap- 
pier than my fondest wishes or cares 
could make him, and I can only'live 
and die as he did. We shall not be 
parted long. a 
Sept. 1746. 
Our new walk is completed, and I 
flatter myself, if we live till May, you 
will think it an improvement. “Tis a 
little unaccountable that, after so fa- 
tally experiencing the transitoriness of 
every enjoyment below the stars, peo- 
ple can amuse themselves in beautify- 
ing any spot upon the earth ; but I look 
upon it as one of the particular dispo- 
sitions of Providence, since, if one were 
to moralize too closely, the conse- 
quence must be, sinking into a state of 
absolute inactivity, and suffermg every 
thing about one to run into ruins. We 
have still glorious weather, and I make 
use of it by walking every day, &c. 
I am now for the second time read- 
ing Dr. Lueas’s enquiry after happi- 
ness, which he plainly demonstrates 
can only be found in the calmness of a 
rcligious course of life. 
1 Written 
