numerable comforts aud blessings with which the Lord sweetens and alleviates our crosses: for we are sinners: we are unthankful for much good, and unfaithful in the improvement of every talent. We have deserved to forfeit all. But the Lord is gracious: it is of his mercy that we are not consumed. But surely we can have no reason to complain. O that gracious Saviour, who died that we may live, and now lives to save to the uttermost! Let us trust ourselves to him. Let us pray that we may love him more. A fervent love to him will teach us to do every thing right, and will make every thing we do and suffer acceptable to him. May he shine upon you at P

and upon us at Olney; theu all shall be well. If you should set off, or embark, on the 4th of August, it will be a convenient epocha for me to count your absence from; for it will be my birth-day. I shall then be fifty-four years old. Ah! how many of these years have been wasted! It is high time for me to have my loins girded up, and my lamp burning: pray for me that it may be so. May the Lord God of the sea and the dry land be with you! And wherever you go, remember there are some at Olney often thinking of you."

I was upon the point of writing when I received your very accepta ble favour of the 5th October. Some time before, Mr. B- shewed me a letter from you to him, containing an account of P-,and of your situation there, which was highly entertaining: but as it contained nothing more, the love I hear you awakened a thousand anxious jea lousies on your behalf; and I was, as I said, preparing to ask you, Where is that blessedness you once spoke of? But now I am relieved. I praise the Lord for the assurances you give me, that he still keeps alive in your heart a sense of your dependence upon himself, and a conviction, in the midst of

amultiplicity of objects and engagements, that One thing eminently is needful and important. I was not so much afraid of your being greatly engrossed by the gew gaws and parade of what is called the world: but methought I saw you surrounded with savans and philosophes. P, I suppose, is one residence of the bel esprit, with which, in these modern days, the esprit fort is too frequently connected. There I thought your principal danger would be. Ah! these wise men! so polite, so entertaining, so insinuating, so shrewd, such masters in the miserable science of scepticism! Indeed my heart has been in pain for you; and I have prayed our gracious Lord to preserve you from being spoiled, or even hurt, by the philosophy and vain deceit of the age. You will perhaps think, that after the many conversations we have had, and the satisfactory proofs you have given of the attachment of your heart to the Saviour of sinners, I ought not to have indulged such suspicions. But as, on the one hand, I was persuaded you would appear to them a very valuable acquisition, if they could gain you; so I apprehended, on the other, the turn of your mind for disquisition and inquiry would probably put you much in their way, and likewise render you more impressible to their attacks. But the Lord has been your keeper. I praise him, and congratulate you. Believe me, you live upon enchanted ground, and breathe infected air. May he maintain in you the fervour of faith, the spirit of prayer, and a close attention to his written word! Then you will see through and despise the ithusions by which multitudes are deceived, and possess an antidote which will preserve from the general contagion of evil around you. And though many fall on your right hand and on your left, the plague shall not come near you while you wait upon the Lord in

a spirit of simplicity and dependence. I was glad to hear of your recovery; and now I know you are well, I cannot be sorry for your late illness. I trust it was a merciful dispensation, to revive and heighten a sense of Divine things in your mind, when so many outward things were conspiring (if I may so say) to deaden it. I hope you will always believe I love you greatly. What I am going to say would by some people be thought a very awkward proof of my regard; but indeed my heart feels that I would rather hear of your being sick, or even that you were banished into Siberia, than to be told that you lived in all the temporal honour and happiness that R—— can afford, except it could be added, In the midst of her prosperity she still feels that she is a pilgrim and stranger upon earth; she still cleaves to her Saviour with simplicity of heart, is still devoted to his service, and still seeks and finds her chief pleasure in the light of his coun

tenance.

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My Letters (in two volumes 12mo.) will be published in about a month. I shall send a copy for you, and one for Mr. W-, to Mr. L-, to be forwarded when opportunity offers. Should I ever be asked for a third volume, I shall wish it may contain a part of my correspond ence with you; and if you please to send me a transcript of such extracts as you think fit for pub. lication, I will thank you. Particularly I should like to see that on the subject of Chloe's dreams."

"If I confess this is my first let ter since I heard of your arrival at P, will you not drop it upon the floor unread, and think me so ungrateful and negligent as to deserve no further notice from you? My apology must be short, as I allow myself but a sheet when writing by the post. From Sep. tember to March, I was in a state almost as unsettled as you could

be during your journey. To be pulled up from Olney where I had been rooted sixteen years, and transplanted to so different a soil as London, with all the previous, concomitant, and subsequent events and feelings connected with so great a change, so much engrossed me for a time, that I could attend to little more than the ne cessary and unavoidable concerns of every day. This great business, through the guidance and blessing of the Lord my leader, was at length happily effected. I am now in some measure settled, and am taking root again. He who led me hither, is pleased to be with us still.-Soon after I came to my new habitation I dislocated my shoulder by a fall, which occasioned a new set of hindrances; and it was long before your favour (which I heard again and again was somewhere upon the road) came to my hand, 1 then waited to inquire of Mr. L if there was a better mode of con veyance than by the post; but he had escaped out of town before I saw him. I am frequently called abroad to persons in distant and opposite quarters of London, and, when at home, as frequently broken in upon from morning to night. But I must not enlarge this way, I love and respect you greatly, think of you often, and am glad to be able to write now. Though my letter is no further advanced, I began it three days ago, How can I but regret the loss of the leisure I enjoyed at Olney!

were pre

I hope I was thankful to hear that you and Mr.Wserved through your long route, that you arrived in health and safety, and that you find your new situation agreeable. I have often prayed for a blessing on Mr. W-'s endeavours to make you happy, and that your intimate connexion may be very comfortable, interest ing, and beneficial to you both. You are still on a journey, though you seem stationary. The wheels and wings of time are carrying

you on apace, not merely to another country, but to another world. The differences of climate, lan guage, and custom at P--, vanish and are imperceptible, when compared with the inconceivable difference between the present state and that unseen unchangeable state to which the moment of death will introduce us, that untried bourn from whence no traveller returns. Oh! the amazing transition, the important consequences! May the thought be familiar to our minds! May it be our great aim to settle and maintain a correspondence and intercourse with him who presides within the veil, and who keeps the keys of that world, and awards the situation of every traveller the moment he arrives within the confines!

"I hope you are happy (in the qualified sense of the word) where you are; and I hope, whatever else you have, you are chiefly happy in communion with our Saviour, and have an abiding conviction, that nothing independent of his favour, not the whole aggregate and com bination of earthly good, can make you happy.

I

"It is, perhaps, a fortnight since I wrote the last paragraph. met a new interruption, and a dreadful one; of which you will doubtless bear much more than I can inform you by letter. We have had a most terrible commotion in London; sudden in its rise, rapid in its progress, awful in its consequences, yet light in comparison with what the event would have been, had not the Lord seasonably interposed. For two or three days we were almost in a state of anarchy; confusion in every street, consternation in every face. At length, in the Lord's hour, the mi litary preserved us from ruin; or else, I believe, in the space of another day, this great proud city, that sat as a queen, and said I shall see no sorrow,' would have been in ashes from end to end. As it was, we were in apparent

danger: two houses nearly adjoining ours were threatened; and the mob came even twice into the square, and a third time within forty yards of it. The Lord preserved and supported us; and Mrs. Newton, though much alarmed, suffered no material harm, I believe, as our feelings at the time were not so painful as since deliverance came, and we have more knowledge of the extent of the horrible mischief intended, and more leisure to contemplate it. Now that the Lord has delivered, we seem like them that dream, and are in some degree sensible it was of his great mercy that we were not utterly consumed. I believe the annals of our history will not afford such an instance; and surely, except the Lord of Hosts had had a small remnant among us who feared his name, and besought him for themselves and for the inhabitauts in the time of trouble, we should have been ere now, like Sodom and Gomorrah, a wide scene of smoke and ruins.

"Ah, my dear madam, how very precarious are all things here be low! How loudly does the Lord call us to wean our affections from the earth, and to seek our rest, treasure, and happiness, in a better world! How much does it behove us to have our lives always in our hands, to be prepared for sudden change, and to take heed lest our hearts be overcharged either with the cares or the pleasures of this world, and so a day of terror and calamity break in upon us unawares! O how happy to be a believer, to have our dwelling in the munitions of rocks, to be united to the will of our Lord, and ready to resign or leave all at his summons! In the midst of life we are in death; in the midst of seeming safety we are always in danger; and so in the midst of the greatest dangers, if we belong to him, we are in perfect safety-that is, we may be assured nothing shall befal us, but what he will overrule for our good, and that while he has any