the defects of his carly education may be, ascribed. When only five years of age, he had some knowledge of his having offended God, and that he was liable to punishment; on the nature of that punishment, "he thought as a child," supposing that he might be ordered to some place where he should be treated with neglect. This apprehension arose from the manner in which his mother corrected him for offences, by ordering him to a corner of the room, and not permitting any one to regard him.

His father dying when Henry was young, and his mother marrying a second time, he was put apprentice to a low. mechanic; but did not remain till the legal expiration of the term; for, upon the death of his mother, his father-inlaw made away with the little property which Henry had expected. This so wounded his feelings, and left him so destitute, that he abandoned his master and went to Londion. Here we interrupt the narrative to state, what was at once both the genuine effect of that religion he afterwards possessed, and much to the credit of the profession he made, that he returned, and filled up that which had been lacking in the service due to his master. In the mean time, instead of seeking to recover the loss he had sustained, or to improve the disappointment which vexed him, by increased diligence and sobriety, we find him in the midst of the dissipations of the metropolis, seeking to divert his mind froin reflection by the vain and criminal pleasures of this world. He chose persons of corrupt manners for his companions; and by telling merry tales and singing vain songs, he often raised their boisterous mirth. The Sabbath was to him a busy day in promoting the reign of sin; he thought God did not desire the labouring poor to go to church; and he pitied the clergy who were obliged to attend on the duties of religion, while he was at liberty to take a pleasant walk, or to visit a public tea garden, &c. On one of those days, which should have been sacred, but, alas so frequently profaned, he could not meet with any of his associates; therefore, to get through the long and tedious hours of that day, he purposed in his mind to go to Long Acre Chapel; but on his way thither, he recollected to have heard of a Dr. Whitefield; and from the reports which had reached him, he expected to find in his preaching what would gratify his curiosity, and furnish him with anatter for humorous remarks: he therefore directed his

course for Tottenham Court Chapel. The preacher was' the rev. Howell Davis. While this faithful minister pointed out the different practices of the impious, Mr. Mead found his own life described; but he remained unmoved till the energetic penetrating close of the sermon, when the condemnation of such characters was set forth in a striking light. He felt distressed, went home, and, in retirement, began again to read his greatly neglected Bible; and resolved to love God. Still he remained ignorant of the nature of faith in Him who is the only Saviour. The work was an outward reformation, not the communication of an inward vital principle; his visible reform was observed by his acquaintance, who were surprized at its being so sudden. The religion (if it may be called by that name) which he knew at this time, was of a Pharisaic cast: he said his prayers morning and evening, he bought a book of prayers for every day in the week; and in this way he proceeded for some weeks, still attending at the chapel: but the Lord opened to his view the evils of nature, and both the seat and demerit of inward depravity. Spiritual convictions, took deep hold of him, and he groaned through disquietude. Now he found his book of prayers of no service: it was laid aside; and from his deep-felt misery, he cried to Heaven, "Lord, undertake for me, for I am oppressed!" He had for a time to wait as well as pray: his burden appeared to increase, so that in the day he could not find rest, and by night he bathed his pillow with tears. Indeed, some nights he was afraid to lie down, lest he should awake in hell. With a mind so uneasy, and his rest so broken, it was no wonder that his body was brought near to the chambers of death. When he heard some scoff, and say that "hell is nothing but a man's conscience," he felt a wounded conscience to be such a hell as no one can bear. His worldly companions blamed him for going among the Methodists; and the Formalist in religion spoke of him as going mad; while he himself knew what he felt came through hearing them, but knew not yet how to obtain effectual relief. At one time he thought of going no more to the chapel; at another, was drawn to try the pleasure of a day's recreation; but, like the unsatisfying shortlived pleasures of sin, the day passed without real joy, and was succeeded by the anguish which attends increased remorse. Thus exposed to "cruel mockings," to persecu VOL. III.-No. 65.

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tion, to present sorrows, and the foreboding of fear, he thought himself hated by man, and even by God: he was also assailed by this temptation, that as the ways of religion are pleasant, and he had sorrow instead of peace, he must be therefore a stranger to those ways. This wrought him up to temporary desperation; his inexpressible grief poued itself forth in groans: "O that I had never sinned against God! I have a Hell here upon Earth, and there is a Hell for me in eternity!" One Lord's day, very early in the morning, he was awoke by a tempest of lightning and thunder; and imagining it to be the end of the world, his agony was great, supposing the great day of divine wrath was come, and he unprepared; but happy to find it not so. Rising early that morning, and having heard that Mr. Whitefield was to preach, he went and heard him, from Hosea x. 12, "Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy," &c. Under this discourse he had a reviving gleam of hope! but this was transient. A young man lent him Baxter's Work on the New Birth; in reading which he felt the importance of the subject, and examined himself by the evidences of regeneration it contains. In this exercise he felt much of the power of unbelief; he saw all necessary for salvation to be in Christ, and that a sinner is justified by believing on him only; but he felt it beyond his own power to believe his prayers became more ardent, he spread his guilt, his wants, and his misery before the throne of God; he sought for saving mercy as one perishing; and when "he had nothing to pay," he freely received the forgiveness of his sins, and the enjoyment of heavenly peace. Thus was he brought, and even constrained to acknow ledge, "I am saved by grace, through faith; and that not of myself, but Jesus gave it me!

"O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I'm constrain'd to be!"

The consolations he now enjoyed were connected with a holy deportment and a circumspect walk. This was the natural effect of the divine gratitude he felt, and the desire "to maintain good works," that the cause of religion might not be slandered, nor the enemies of God have occasion to blaspheme. Having frequently reviewed the Lord's dealings with him, and the obligations he was under to recovering grace, (this appears to have been about two years from his first religious concern,) he thought himself called upon to

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proclaim the glad tidings of the Gospel to others: he considered that the Lord had shewn him such great mercy, to the end that he might call others to come to Jesus Christ for life and salvation. Many things arose to check these sentiments: now he feared they originated in pride; then he thought of the advantage he might obtain in following bis secular calling; and also the increased persecution the ministry would expose him to in the world, and greater opposition from Satan. On the other hand, he saw himself engaged in a sinful conference with flesh and blood; saw himself set forth and condemned in the parable, where the unprofitable servant concealed his talent; saw himself as wanting in that benevolent concern for his fellow creatures which seeks their salvation, and the promotion of their best and eternal interests. At length he opened the state of his mind to a Christian friend, who, very wisely and faithfully represented the necessity of his obtaining some literary qualification; and informed him of the college at Trevecca, belonging to the late countess of Huntingdon. This information, doubtless, contributed to form his determination to apply to the rev. G. Whitefield; which he did by a long letter, giving an account of himself, his conversion, and bis motives in offering himself a candidate for admission to the college. Mr. Whitefield answered this letter; and soon after, Mr. Mead went to Trevecca. This was about 1767. He is thought to have been one in the second set of students after the establishment of that religious seminary. Mr. Mead did not preach long in that connection, for he had taken orders in the Church of England, and became minister of Ram's Chapel, Hackney, of which Mr. Eyre was afterwards pastor. He was chosen joint lecturer of St. John's Church, Wapping; and, on the death of his colleague, succeeded to the whole of the lectureship. This was prior to his marriage, which was in the beginning of May, 1776. The object of his choice was a Miss Cooper, of the neigh bourhood of Henley, Oxon.: to which he was introduced at the Hot Wells. This lady brought him good property; and he enjoyed much happiness in his connubial relation with her till death separated them, about twelve years ago. Upon his going to reside in London, Mr. Mead frequently preached in behalf of charitable institutions. On one of those occasions, his sermon being in a strain different from what, and longer than the rector of the church expected,

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he treated Mr. Mead very uncourteously on his return to the vestry. However, after a few months, going to dine with a friend, he was warmly embraced by one of the party, who owed his conversion to hearing that sermon; when Mr. Mead observed, he was now at no loss to account for the lion's roaring so roughly at the time.

At one time, he preached a morning lecture at the German Chapel, in Goodman's Fields, and had a weekly lecture at the Little, Minories Church. At another period of his life, he preached a morning lecture at the parish church of St. Pancras and then took a small chapel at Somerstown. His health, at length, declined so, that he was rarely able to preach; and on a fast day in 1797, he preached, what he expected would prove, his last sermon; and he published it, signifying that expectation. A few weeks afterwards, he went to Henley on Thames for the benefit of the air, where his amiable lady died; and he, to the astonishment of himself and his friends, recovered in a considerable degree. Unable, however, to recover his spirits, he did not resume his stated labours at the same places, but visited various parts of Yorkshire, Hamphire, &c. At a small chapel near Southampton, built by W. Taylor, esq. he officiated for a few months. About 1801 he removed to Reading, where he occasionally assisted the rev. Mr. Marsh, as his health would allow.

His death was occasioned by the rupture of a blood vessel. He dined on Monday, Oct. 27, 1806, at the house of a friend near Reading; who, on his being taken ill, sent him home in his carriage. He continued to bring up a great quantity of blood; and expired about three o'clock on the morning of the 29th.

Mr. Mead was not a man of the first rate abilities; but he was generally esteemed as a preacher. His views of truth were, what are generally termed, Calvinistic; and he continued firmly attached to them to the end. He was an affectionate friend, and, when in health, lively in conver sation. In a word, he adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour in all things.

MEDLEY, SAMUEL, was born at Cheshunt, Hertfordshire, June 26, 1738. His father and grandfather had been monuments of grace, and filled respectable situations in life. His grandfather, whose name was also Samuel, attended

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