proposing questions on which the learned world had been divided, from the first dawn of science to the present day, I gave her the best replies which the limits of a long letter would allow. Such was the commencement of our correspondence."

One of Mr. Drew's young female friends, when announcing to him her expected residence in his neighbourhood after a long absence, writes, in 1823, "I hope to see much of you, to talk frequently to you, and once again share your kind instructions. I shall again mark the argumentative position of your finger, the rogueish turn of your expressive eye, and hear your affectionate exhortations to avoid evil and cleave to that which is good."

6

The Moral Tales of Samuel Wesley he greatly admired. He had committed them to memory, because of their point and humour, for which he had always a keen relish; and his friendly admonitions to his female acquaintances were frequently mingled with quotations from the Cobbler,' the Mastiff,' and the Basket.' A lady, whom he had given away at the altar, remarks, in a letter addressed to him shortly after her marriage, "I always take care to pin the basket,' and I have not attempted to ride the mastiff yet." To one of his daughters he presented a copy of these tales, with this memorandum appended to the Basket;'"Let no female acquaintance of mine be married, until she can repeat this piece. SAMUEL DREW."

The letters which follow, furnish a specimen of Mr. Drew's familiar epistolary instructions.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

66

"St. Austell, April 22, 1816.

Although many months have elapsed since I wrote you last, this letter will inform you that omission implies neither forgetfulness nor neglect. I frequently think of the few pleasing hours we spent together, both at Harpur-street and at St. John'ssquare. But these hours are gone for ever; and

Not to return, how painful the remembrance!'

"When I left London, I had some expectation of revisiting it about this time; but a train of circumstances prevents me from fulfilling my wishes. I, however, look forward to this time twelve-months, when, if life and health permit, I hope again to see it. But this, I expect, will be the last time for life; and you will not be there, neither do I expect to see any of your family, except such as live at St. John'ssquare, unless I come when Dr. Clarke is in London. Of late I have been so busy, that I have not been able to keep up a regular correspondence with any person. I hope, in the course of a few months, to have a little more leisure, when I shall renew my acquaintance with my old friends.

"When you write me, let me know what books you have been reading, and what proficiency you have made in metaphysics. Your last letter was written with too much hesitation, diffidence, and perplexity. You must not be afraid of me. You saw me a plain, blunt fellow, in London, who was mistaken for a blacksmith. Do not be afraid of committing yourself. Remember this rule-The person who never made a blunder never made a discovery. If you always tread near the central parts of a circle, you will never obtain much accurate knowledge of its circumference; and, consequently, you will never widen the horizon of knowledge. It is on the extremity of the circle that metaphysicians must walk ;

and they must not be terrified, if they sometimes slip their feet, and fall.

"Since I last saw you, I have not done much in this department. Subjects of a different nature have engaged my thoughts; nor do I think that I shall be able to turn my attention to the study of this science until several months more have elapsed. It is a thorny region; but it furnishes firm footing, which affords a recompence for all our toils.

"But neither metaphysics, nor any merely human science, can procure for us an interest in the felicities of eternity. All may be made subservient to our eternal welfare, and may contribute to that expansion of mind which we shall carry with us into eternity. To what extent the mental faculties are capable of expanding, it is probable that we shall never know, until we enter into a world of spirits. Knowledge, without doubt, is an inlet of felicity; and perhaps no inconsiderable portion of happiness in heaven will arise from our being able for ever to draw from the ocean of eternal truth, without the possibility of exhausting it.

"Hereafter we may have an opportunity of enlarging on this important subject, should time and favourable circumstances concur. But, from that distance which lies between us, I scarcely expect we shall behold each other's faces again.

"May the Lord in mercy bless you with health in time, and happiness in eternity.

"I remain, your sincere friend,

"Miss Mary Ann Clarke,

"Harpur-Street, London."

"SAMUEL DREW."

"MY DEAR SISTER,

66

"Liverpool, Dec. 22, 1819.

I duly received your letter by Dr. Clarke, and was equally glad to hear from my only sister that her family was well, as she could be to receive a letter from me. My health is good. I do

not know that I have had an hour's indisposition since I left St. Austell. But you may be assured, that my time is much taken up about my business. It is not to be expected that I could come hither to do nothing. Sometimes I find myself in solitude, and sigh after home; but I have here a numerous train of friends, who do every thing in their power to make me comfortable; and, hearing constantly from home, my gloom subsides.

"I am exceedingly glad to find that your children all behave themselves well. So long as this is the case, tell them that their uncle will love and respect them; but if they behave badly, especially as they grow to maturity, he will have nothing to do with them. To tell me that Mary is a good girl, is giving no new information; it is only confirming that opinion which I have always entertained of her, and which I hope she will never give me any occasion to alter. Of James, also, I am much pleased to hear a favourable account. He is now come to an age in which his character should acquire stability; and I hope he will not give you any occasion to send me a different account when you write again. I hope that both Mary and James will use all the means in their power to improve their minds, without losing sight of those duties which they owe to God and their parents. I hope that Jabez will conduct himself well, and that he is attentive to his learning. I desire to know, when you write next, how far he is advanced in cyphering, and let him write on your letter a few words, that I may see how his writing is improved. As to his behaviour, I expect it is such as will bear examination, after due allowances for age and circumstances. I hope, while he behaves well, that I shall always respect him, on account of his uncle Jabez, whom he never knew. Samuel is my name-sake, and if he conducts himself improperly, I shall be ready to wish that he had been called something else; but while he is a good lad, I shall be glad to think that he bears my name. Thomasin is called after her own

mother's name, and my mother's. She is equal in name,-I hope she will be equal in good behaviour: while I hear that this is the case, I shall love her, and shall always be glad to hear of her welfare. As your health, my dear sister, I find from your letter, is rather precarious, this lays an additional obligation on all the children to love, assist, and readily obey your commands, as well as those of their father. And whatever improvement they may make, in any other respect, I shall never have a very favourable opinion of them, if they are disobedient to their parents. They may rest assured, that, while this is the case, the blessing of God can never be expected upon them, either while they are children, or when they are grown up to maturity. I am sorry to learn that your health is in a declining state: I hope it amounts to nothing of a serious nature. You ask me, will I notice and respect your children, should you be taken from them? Yes, my dear sister, so far as I can, consistently with my own family, your children shall never want a friend while their uncle lives. I will advise them, admonish, or reprove, and assist them to the utmost of my power.

66

To uncle I desire to be particularly remembered. Indeed, I conceive that I am as much writing to him as I am to you; only it would seem strange not to introduce his name. I have some thoughts of visiting Cornwall, should I live to see the summer; but the distance is great, and the expense is heavy. I am now nearly four hundred miles from you. May you live long, and live happily together. I do not doubt that we shall meet again in time; but,if not, I trust we shall meet in heaven.

"The spiritual advice which you request of me I scarcely know how to give. I know you are naturally inclined to view every thing on the darkest side. Why should you doubt the goodness of God? or why question his ability or readiness to save to the uttermost? You say, your faith is little. This may be; but remember, our safety does not depend upon the strength