had dined with me. G. O. came by my appointment, and I do not know, that I ever saw any one more struck than Graves. He considered Mr. O.'s narrative, altogether, as peculiarly interesting; and was cordially disposed to wish well to his endeavors. Dr. C. talked with me, yesterday, on the steps necessary to be taken, in order to make the Irish missionary system, unexceptionable. I never expect to make Dr. C. think as I do. But I was glad to observe, that he spoke more reasonably, than I had thought probable. He is a very worthy man ; and, I believe, would willingly increase, instead of diminishing, the church interest among the methodists. At the same time, I must allow, that he is apt to be run away with, by his own prejudices and preconceptions.

On the whole, while I do not give credit to the methodists, for all the professions they make, I do assuredly think, that they are capable of being beneficially managed; and that the best of all managers for them, would be, clergymen, who should feel toward them as you do.

So far, I wrote a full fortnight ago; but was then unable to go on, as I intended. I then got into a long answer to a letter of Mr. Butterworth's,* out of which, I have not emerged, and yet with which, my head has been occupied, because it has required labor to make myself intelligible, to a plain, though very sensible man. And, in spite of myself, almost daily, my thread of thought has been either broken, or suspended, by one interruption or another.

Having a little disburthened my mind, about not writing to you, let me now say, that I do not feel wholly at ease, that you have let me be silent so long, I know I did not deserve a letter from you, when I did not acknowledge the receipt of your excellent and pleasant one. But, then, you do not go by that rule, and you do not judge of me by appearances. fact, I am uneasy, lest you should not have been well. For, if you were rightly well, I think you would have some matter in your thoughts, which it would be a pleasure to you to communicate. My friend, ease me of this doubt as soon as you can.

In

Do you often see -? I shall be glad to know what you think of him; as I cannot but suspect, that, with all possible rectitude of heart, he has not a plain-sailing mind. In family matters, there are faults on both sides. Indeed my own observation satisfies me. That - and are not without their oddities, and, perhaps, are liable to mistake those oddities, for matters of conscience. When this is the case, there can be

9

* The late Joseph Butterworth, Esq. M. P.

but little good understanding, even between the nearest natural

connections.

Something, lately said, leads me to think, that both may possibly have doubts, even about me; that is, may suspect me to be too much a compromizer with the world. I have thought a little about this; and, on the whole, I do not think it wonderful. There are some people, whose senses must be impressed with a thing, before they can conceive it to exist; and who, even then, measure all its energies, by the sounds which it emits, or the appearances which it exhibits. To such persons, an inward separation from the world, is nearly unintelligible; it must be palpable, and tangible, or they cannot take cognizance of it. The positive marks of piety, too, must be ostensible and striking. If they are confined to the closet, and to the retired walk, they are held problematical. It will, probably, be said, how can such a person be so very religious, as some say he is, when he acts and speaks so much like other people; and so little resists the customs, and practices of the world?' It is not censoriousness, nor want of charity, but it is want of vous; it is, that, in the combination of animal and spirit, or of body and mind, the material part, got a kind of ascendency, which disposes to a grosser, and indisposes for a more abstract, mode of apprehending things. To such, persons of a decidedly opposite construction, will be necessarily unintelligible. I feel, I am so, to all of that class; and I might be sometimes disheartened by it, lest it should arise from some worse cause, were it not, that the first of incarnate Beings, being eminently formed on the predominantly intellectual plan, nay, most probably, standing at the very head of that class, has not only given a preference to the unostensible course, in his conduct and maxims, but was himself censured, for not being sufficiently rigid

and recluse.

Certainly, hitherto, the intellectual are the very few; and the sensitive are the many. The condescending goodness of God, therefore, has, ever since the day of Pentecost, but especially since the death of the apostles, permitted his holy religion, variously to embody itself, and also to assume variously sectarian forms. The visible church, has obviously owed its magnitude, to the former means; and the invisible church, could not, I suppose, have been kept up, without the latter. Yet, followers of the pure spirit of christianity, never have been wanting; and they who are such, must feel, and be grateful for, their invaluable advantage. But they must also, patiently and kindly, bear with those, who belong to that lower, and yet necessary order. For my own part, I trust, I feel disposed to do so; yet I think

it right to do all that can be done, to diffuse a better, and higher spirit; though still, with caution, and all gentleness, to those who cannot understand such a design. I think you feel completely with me, in all these matters; and I assure you a day seldom passes, in which I do not, however weakly, yet sincerely and earnestly, pray to God, to give you such health and spirits, as will enable you to act effectually, in that high and happy department, to which, in a more public way than myself, it has pleased divine Providence to call you. I humbly trust we do not err, in supposing that way, at which we aim, to be, in a more peculiar manner, the way marked out by our blessed Lord himself, while sojourning in this lower world.

S., I fear, grows more odd. I have had two letters from him, previously to his leaving town, to go to the north of Ireland. In the first, he tells me his thoughts of my deluded and dangerous condition; and prays earnestly, that I may awaken out of my dream. To this, I wrote a short and kind answer; just saying a few words to undeceive him, as to the idea of my thinking myself clear from transgression: the second letter, was in reply to this; very kind and tender, but written in the very spirit of a religionized Werter. I am too certain, that he will take some extraordinary step; there being an obvious progress, from one degree of peculiarity to another. In his last letter, he positively tells me, that he cannot have any more intercourse with me on earth; but earnestly prays, that he may meet me hereafter, in the bands of an eternal friendship; and that he may see me, among the flock whom the Lamb shall lead to fountains of living water; adding, if, by any means, I may arrive at these mansions of peace, such a sight, will, I am sure, add to the bliss of heaven.'

I am not ready to weep; but his letter, so odd, so melancholy, and yet so gentle and kind, filled my eyes. Forgive me, my dear friend, for my long omission, and believe me, most faithfully yours,

ALEX. KNOX.

LETTER LVII.

To A. Knox, Esq.

Cashel, Aug. 2. 1807.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

WHY should you think of apologizing to me for silence? Assuredly, a suspicion never presented itself, for a single moment, that you were neglectful, or unkind: and a day has seldom pass

ed, without self accusation on my own part. I was, indeed, very desirous to write, from an apprehension, especially, that all was not well with you. Three or four letters I did actually begin, but I could not get on beyond two or three pages, which did not please me the fact is, I have not been well; but there has been nothing particularly alarming in my ailments; nothing more than, perhaps, naturally and necessarily arose from the state of the air, which has certainly been very trying. Your most acceptable letter relieved me from no little uneasiness about you. I feared you were suffering more than appears to be the case; and, considering all things, I am happy that you are able to give so tolerable an account of yourself.

Your time has been fully employed. What you say about the methodists, gives me peculiar satisfaction. Should it ever fall in my way to come in contact with any of their preachers, I hope I shall not be wanting in effort, wisely to conciliate; you and I, are, I believe, fully agreed, that, unless the management be judicious, such efforts will do more harm than good. How much do I wish that my clerical brethren were more disposed, to conciliate without effort; that is, without any direct intention of conciliating, by living up to the sacred character they have taken upon themselves of this, I am well convinced, there is more, than there was some years ago; still, however, there is much, very much wanting, as far as my observation goes. Good intention is gaining ground, more than positive qualifications; we are, for the most part, a deplorably ignorant body; and, till our university improves very strikingly, how can matters well be otherwise?

:

Indisposition has sadly interfered with my writing sermons: I need not tell you, that this was a serious disappointment; but I am thankful that I was enabled to succumb with cheerfulness: though continuous and consecutive writing was out of my power, (and on this point I was not uneasy, as I had Whitty to preach,) I was enabled, with a good deal of comfort, to disport myself among the books, and have made a pretty large body of references and extracts, on the subject of the Liturgy. Matter has grown on me from books; and some new light has arisen on my own mind; so that I am in hopes I might be able, perhaps at no very distant period, so to alter, arrange, and revise, the five sermons I have already made, with the addition of a sixth, and a collection of notes, as to produce a volume that may do some service. On this point, however, I do not wish to be sanguine, as I know there is true practical wisdom in the old proverb, Festina lente.' Laurence has, to my conviction, satisfactorily proved, that our church is rather lutheran, than calvinistic; but I should be glad, if I undertook such a work as I

have been speaking of, to prove, that we are melancthonian, rather than lutheran. You are well acquainted, doubtless, with all that Mosheim says, on the schisms in the lutheran church. I have looked into other books on the point, and cannot help thinking, that our church comes nearer the party, that formed themselves on Melancthon's system, or rather nearer to Melancthon himself, than to the writings of any modern, out of its own pale. I have turned a good deal over Melancthon himself; and found, that you had been there before me indeed, I recollected that you had; but your marks pointed out your footsteps. I have made extracts, not only from the passages you were reading, but from others, where there is a wonderful parallelism, with some of the least dogmatic views of our church; and an especial harmony with that little body of Articles, drawn up under Henry VIII. in 1541. Laurence, you may recollect, quotes it; but he does not, by any means, quote the most striking and important passages of it. Neither do I recollect to have seen, either it, or them, adverted to, by any other writer. I have found some very striking and noble testimonies, in favor of our liturgy, by foreign protestants; especially by Grotius, Isaac Casaubon, and, above all, by the famous Drelincourt; who actually predicts, that the Church-of-England service, will one day become, a light to lighten the rest of the Reformation. It is a circumstance perhaps worthy of observation, that the church of Neufchâtel, has actually taken, almost literally, some of our most spiritual collects, and embodied them in her occasional offices. What proves that she took from us, and not from a common source, the missals for instance, is, that some of the collects she has chosen, are from among those added in the review of 1662. The edition of the Neufchâtel liturgy, which I possess, is the second, anno 1737. This fact is not adverted to, by any liturgical writer I have hitherto been able to consult. The American, and Scotch episcopalians, it is generally known, have adopted our liturgy. The present state of the lutheran and calvinistic churches, I am very desirous to know something of. Though Mosheim thinks otherwise, I conceive it may be proved, that the Greek church has a far greater leaning to us, than to any other: her deep antipathy to the church of Rome is very remarkable: but it is, perhaps, not less remarkable, that, while that church fruitlessly tried every thing, that chicane and bribery could do, to gain her to their side, there came unbought and voluntary testimonies, from very respectable quarters in the Greek church, to the merit of our Anglican system, both of worship and doctrine. These matters are chiefly of a preliminary nature; but I have, here and there, gleaned a good deal, that perhaps may tend to illustrate the

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