Memoirs of the life and writings of Lindley Murray: in a series of letters
^ OS _ ==m rt~- oj-i — o o'-sz ^o s&-^ = = o 00 c-ko ^eo 2^ °<t. — ^■^~ « ™ oco ___ — SsScc ■I^^^H ^i«^*^ THE LIBRARY The Ontario Institute for Studies in Education Toronto, Canada L^3RARY THE CMTA1IO (NsnTilTE FOR STU I^S IN EDUCATION FEB 25 1968 »&llt>^nf ^tTLVff ^wianci Jcir f ^^<^^4V ^^^ .1^.^^?^ ^ MEMOIRS OP THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF LINDLEY MURRAY IN A SERIES OF LETTERS, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. WITH A PREFACE AND A CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIRS, BY ELIZABETH FRANK. ^cfaj ^orfe: PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL WOOD AND SONS, RICHARD WOOD, COLLINS AND HANNAY, COLLINS AND CO., MAHLON DAY, G. AND C. CARVU.L, W. B GILLEY, E. BLISS AND E. WHITE, AND A. T. GOODRICH. Philadelphia, e. and t.kite, and to war and hocan: Boston, RICHARDSON AIJD LORD. 1827, Samuel Wood and So7is, Printers, PREFACE.* In presenting this little volume to the public, I am solicitous to state the reasons which led to its publication ; and I flatter myself they will prove satisfactory. The celebrity which the subject of these Memoirs had ob- tained, and the interest which he had excited, by his arduous and successful endeavours to promote the literary, moral, and religious improvement of youth, often induced me to think that, after his decease, a short and authentic account of his life and character, would be acceptable to the public. To that part of the public more immediately benefited by his labours, the work would, I apprehended, prove peculiarly pleasing. Under these impressions, I made, at different periods, some notes and observations, preparatory to an undertaking of this nature. I was, however, sensible that, from various circum- stances, particularly from my not having been acquainted with Mr. Murray till he was considerably advanced in life, I was not qualified to execute the task as I could wish. I was convinced too, that no person, except himself, possessed that accurate knowledge of the events of his life, and the formation of his character, which would render the work truly interesting and instructive. His friends in America had had but little inter- course with him, except by letter, since the fortieth year of his age : his friends in England had, of course, known him only since that period, when his character and principles were formed ; and from the ill state of his health, his subsequent life was spent in retirement. I had heard various reports re- specting him, and I had also seen a printed account, which, though apparently not originating in any ill will, or in any ill design, were utterly void of foundation.* I was apprehensive, * I do not, by any means, allude to a short biographical sketch, in- serted in the European Magazine, 1803 ; and thence copied into various periodical publications: that account, as far as it goes, is perfectly au- thentic; and, in every particular, strictly consistent with the tenour of these Memoirs. IV that, nftcr his death, some of these accounts, or others of a similar nature, might obtain currency, and even find their way into respectable publications, if not prevented by a true and well authenticated statement of facts. These circumstances induced me earnestly to wish that he might become his own biographer. But I knew that the deli- cacy of hi.-^ mind would, at least in thelirst instance, revolt at the proposal. I therefore contented myself with hinting to him my intention of writing, if I should survive him, a short account of his life ; and I requested his assistance only in sup- plying me with a few materials, relative to the period preced- ing my acquaintance with him. It was not without many ar- guments, and much solicitation, that 1 could induce him to ac- knowledge (he propriety of my proposal, and to promise com- pliance. The work, however, was not begun till long after- ward? ; and it was frequently suspended, on account of his numerous literary avocations, and the weak state of his health. At length, after many interruptions, and demurs respecting its propriety, it was completed in a series of letters addressed to myself. I was so well pleased with the performance; and I believed that it would be so much more agreeable and inter- estins in the author's own words and manner, than in any I could devise, that I relinquished my original idea. I could not be satisfied to receive what he had written, as materials only: but I strongly urged him to continue the work to the time of his writing; and to allow me, (if circumstances should seem to require the measure,) to publish it, after his decease, in the form in which he had written it. To this, after much consideration, he consented ; continuing to express an appre- hension, that neither the subject, nor the manner in which it is treated, is worthy of public notice and approbation: an opin- ion in which, I believe, few readers will concur. As some persons maybe inclined to think, that I acted im- properly in inducing him to write these Memoirs, and after- wards to consent to their publication, I must, in justice to my- self, be allowed to make a few observations on the subject. Many pious persons have written memoirs of their own lives, and some even purposely for publication ; and such workshave been perused with much interest and edification by the most respectable part of the community. I should not have urged the proposal, had I not been persuaded that Mr. Murray's ob- jections to it. had no other foundation than a humble sense of his own merit, and an unwillingness to intrude himself unne- cessarily on the attention of the world ; and that the removing of these objections, might, without doing him any injury, or exciting any improper sentiments in his mind, be the means of introducing to the public a pleasing and instructive little work. Without his consent, I should not have deemed myself author- ized to publish it ; fully concurring in sentiment with him, that the publishing of any letter, without permission from the writer, is, to say the least, a flagrant breach of decorum, of honour, and of that confidence which is the basis of all social and friendly intercourse. If, notwithstanding this explanation, there should still, in the apprehension of any person, appear the slightest cause of censure, I trust that it will fall on the editor who first suggest- ed the idea of the work, and strongly urged the execution of it ; and not, in any degree, on the departed author. I can truly say, that every sentiment which he expressed, during the whole course of the discussion, was strictly consistent, on the one hand, with the integrity of his principles, and the deli- cacy of his feelings ; and on the other, w ith the wish which he candidly avowed, of not unnecessarily withholding any thing, that might tend to the gratification of friendship, and of innocent or even laudable curiosity, if not to the promotion of higher objects. — The suggestion that the serious reflec- tions with which this little work abounds, might be beneficial, especially to young persons, seemed much to reconcile him to the publication. It may not be improper to state, that these Memoirs are published exactly as I received them from the author : I have neither added, nor dimmished, any thing ; not having thought myself at liberty, nor indeed having any wish, to make the slightest variation. I have annexed to the Memoirs, a short account of the conchiding years of the author's Hfc, his character, and some remarks on his various publications : an addition that seemed necessary to complete the information, wliich this Httle vol- ume is dcsipfned to convey. In what I liave written, I am not sensible that I have, in any respect, departed from the exact trutli. I can, on this occasion, fully adopt the sentiment which Dr. Beattic expresses with regard to his son: " In order to convey a favourable notion of the person of whom I speak, I Lave nothing to do but to tell the simple truth." I had abundant opportunity of being acqiiainted with the life and character of the late much esteemed Lindlcy Murray. During many years, from motives of friendship to himself and his wife, I lived under his roof; and afterwards, having remov- ed into a house, which 1 had purchased in the suburbs of the city of York, about half a mile from his residence, I was in the habit of visiting them very frequently. Some readers may, indeed, think that I have given unnecessary proof of intimate acquaintance, by rel.iting many particulars, which they may deem too minute. To them it may appear that I have, with an unhallowed or injudicious hand, removed the veil, which retirement had cast over my friend, and which shaded him from the glare of public observation. But it must be allowed, that in the representation which I have given of him, I have only exhibited him to the many as he appeared to the com- paratively few, who were intimately acquainted with him; and that the more he was known, the more he was loved and es- teemed. In his character there was no affected singularity ; ■ and in his habits, there were no peculiarities, except such as resulted from a judicious or necessary conformity to unavoida- ble circumstances. Nor was there any thing in his conduct, or even in the detail of his domestic arrangements, which re- quired concealment ; or which could not bear the test of near approach, and close examination. I may further shield my- self under the example and authority of Dr. Johnson. In his Lives of the Poets, he narrates, with evident satisfaction, what I am sure most persons will peruse with interest, many t Vll particulars apparently more trivial than any which I have re- lated: and in his Rambler, he judiciously observes; "The business of the biographer is to lead the thoughts into domes- tic privacies, and display the minute details of daily hfe." I should with much pleasure, agreeably to my own wish, and to the suggestion of others, have enriched this work with a selection from Mr. Murray's letters, or with copious extracts from them : but I am not authorized to assume this privilege. On a particular occasion he received an appHcation for leave to publish some of his letters ; which, after mature delibera- tion, he declined giving. The subject was thus brought under his consideration ; and in consequence he expressed, very strongly, both at that time and subsequently, his wish and re- quest that after his decease, none of his letters should on any occasion, or in any manner, be published. And that this re- quest might not be forgotten, nor his meaning misunderstood, he has left it in writing. He never, I am convinced, wrote a line of which he had cause to be ashamed : but his letters, though multifarious, were chiefly on subjects of private or family business, or on his literary concerns ; or effusions writ- ten on the spur of the moment, relating to incidents or occa- sions of a local and temporary nature. — In objecting to the publication of his letters, he was influenced, not merely by modesty, but by various considerations. Some years since, the proprietors of his works, with great liberality, requested him to allow them to have his portrait taken by an eminent artist ; which I am sorry to say, he de- clined. Several little sketches were made, by various per- sons who occasionally visited him : but all of these had little if any resemblance of him, except a profile, which I have re- ceived through the kindness of Mr. Sansom of Philadelphia. It was taken by him, in 1799, when he was on a visit at Hold- gate ; but it has not yet been engraven. After Mr. Murray's decease, several persons went to view his remains: amongst others, Mr. Westoby, a miniature painter, who, for his own satisfaction, made a sketch of the features of the deceased ; vlii from which he afterwards formed the portrait which is now annexed to this volume. It is scarcely necessary to observe that, if any profit should arise to the editor, from the publication of Mr. Murray's Me- moirs, it will, in conformity with his practice, be applied, like that on all his other works, to charitable and benevolent pur- poses. I present to the public the Memoirs which my friend has written of his life, with a (irm, but humble confidence, that they will meet a favourable reception ; and that few readers will find any thing to regret in them but their brevity. They will perhaps not be unacceptable or uninteresting, as a correct and pleasing specimen of the epistolary style, and as the last com- position that will be produced to the world, of an esteemed and highly useful writer ; for with respect to the few manu- scripts which he has left, none are prepared, or designed, for publication ; and in regard to his letters, his request will, 1 doubt not, be held sacred. But this little volume possesses stronger and more important claims to favour and approba- tion than any I have yet mentioned. To the philosopher, it affords a striking instance of a character formed to a high de- gree of excellence, and rising into eminence, not by adventi- tious advantages, but chiefly by its own native energy and exertion; to the moralist^ the virtuous principles which it re- commends, and which, in some degree, it exemplifies from the earliest dawn of reason to the latest period of life, will doubt- less be highly gratifying ; to the young, it will, I trust, prove a stimulus to the due improvement of their intellectual and moral powers, and the dedication of them to the glory of their great Creator, and the benefit of their fellow-creatures : and on all, it will, I hope, forcibly inculcate the important lesson of pious acquiescence in the Divine Will, and the duty and hap- piness of cultivating, even under trying and discouraging cir- cumstances, a contented, cheerful, and benevolent disposition The Mount, York, August, 1826. MEMOIRS, r LETTER T. My dear Friend, -# * I HAVE not forgotten the re- peated and urgent requests which have been made to me, to communicate some memoirs of my life, especially of its earlier periods, for the gratification of friendship. But a reluctance to write so particularly on the subject of myself, and my own concerns, has hitherto prevented me from enffaging; in a w ork of this nature. I can not, however, any longer refuse to comply with a proposal, which is supported by the soothing recommendations of esteem and regard, and by a friendship which has subsisted between us for 3 . * many years. Riil after all. 1 am doubtful whothrr any parts of such a life as mine has been, can alFord much satisfaction, or answer the expectations which may have been formed on the subject. Perhaps, indeed, when I shall have bidden adieu to this transient scene, the events here recorded, may acquire an interest, which, at present, they do not possess. If this should be the case, and they should sometimes excite the recollection of our triendship, and produce rellections of a pleasing or useful nature, they will not have been wholly written in vain. With these views then, I enter on my little history. And as it will have some advantages, I shall tbrm the narrative into a series of familiar letters. It is always a delicate point to speak, or to write, properly, concerning one's self. But as I have been persuaded to undertake a work in- volving this dilliculty, I must accommodate myself to it, as well as I am able. Being at once the subject and the narrator, it will not be pos- sible to prevent a very frequent recurrence of the obnoxious pronoun. I will, however, study so to conduct this biographical sketch, as^to avoid every species of undue self prominence, as well as to repress whatever may be considered as false delicacy. If I should sometimes err, in prose- cuting these intentions, I have no doubt the veil of indulgence and friendship will be thrown over my imperfections. I was born in the year 1745, at Swetara, near Lancaster, in the state of Pennsylvania. My parents were of respectable characters, and in the middle station of life. My father possessed a good flour mill at Swetara: but being of an enterprising spirit, and anxious to provide hand- somely for his family, he made several voyages to the West Indies, in the way of trade, by which he considerably augmented his property. Pur- suing his inclinations, he, in time, acquired large possessions, and became one of the most re- spectable merchants in America. In the pursuit of business, he was steady and indefatigable. During the middle period of his life, he had extensive concerns in ships ; and was engaged in a variety of other mercantile affairs. But this great and multifarious employment, never appeared to agitate or oppress his mind ; he was distinguished for equanimity and compo- sure. And I have often heard it remarked, that by his conversation and deportment, no person would have imagined, that he had such a weight of care upon him. When in the company of his friends, he was so thoroughly unbent, that per- sons unacquainted with the nature and variety of his business, might naturally suppose that he had very little employment. This trait may be 4 jiislly con^idorrd as an cvidciico of si roiig pow- ers ofiniiKl. Those had been cultivated by atten- tion to business, and by much intercourse with the world. But my father did not possess the advantages of a liberal education; by which his talents and virtues might have been still more extensively useful. My mother was a woman of an amiable dispo- sition, and remarkable tor mildness, humanity, and liberality of sentiment. She was indeed, a faithful and afTectionate wife, a tender mother, and a kind mistress. I recollect with emotions of afTection and gratitude, her unwearied solici- tude for my health and happiness. This excel- lent mother died some years after I had been settled in lite. And though I had cause to mourn for the loss of her, yet I had reason to be thankful to Divine Providence, that I had been blessed with her for so long a period, and par- ticularly through the dangerous seasons of child- hood and youth. Both my parents, who belonged to the society of Friends, were concerned to promote the re- ligious welfire of their children. They often gave us salutary admonition, and trained us up lo attend the pu})lic worship of God. The Holy Scriptures were read in the family: a duty which, when regularly and devoutly performed, must be fraught with the most beneficial effects. I 5 recollect being, at one time, in a situation of the room, where I observed that my father, on read- ing these inspired volumes to us, was so much affected as to sht d tears. This, which I suppose was frequently tht. case, made a pleasing and profitable impression on my young mind, which I have often remembered with peculiar satisfac- tion.— Our family was rather numerous. My parents had twelve children, of whom I was the eldest. But the course of time has reduced us to a small number. At the present period, (the summer of 1806,) only four of us remain. That activity of body, for Mhich I was re- markable in youth and mature life, commenced at an early age.* When 1 was only nine months * The first months of the author's hfe afforded no promise either of bodily or mental vigour. Till he was about half a year old, he was almost perpetually crying. His countenance gave no indication of intelligence. His mother was little aware of the comfort which she should afterwards receive from him, and of the honourable distinction which awaited him. She often said, that if, at that time, Providence had been pleased to take away her first-born, she should have thought the dispensation mer- ciful, both to the poor little infant and its parents. But after that period, his health gradually improved; and his strength, spirit, and activity, exceeded his age. From various accounts, and from many little anecdotes, which I have heard, I can not but conclude, that his childhood and youth were lovely ; and formed a natural and beautiful prelude to the wisdom, piety, and benevolence, which hi? advanced years exhibited. Though old, I frequently escaped, as I have been in- formed, from the care of the family ; and, un- noticed by them, made my way from the house to (he mill, which were more than a hundred yards distant trom each other. As soon as I could run ahout, I proved to be, not only an active, but a mischievous child. 1 played many tricks, which did not denote the best disposition, and which '^axc a wrong bias to my vivacity. This perverse turn of mind might have been checked in the bud, if it had received suitable, carlv correction. But I had a very fond grandmother, with. whom I was a great favourite, and who often protected me from proper chastisement, when I richly deserved it. This indulgence gave full scope to my propensities; and prevented, for a time, that happy restraint, which is of so much importance to the disposition and habits of chil- dren, and which has so much influence on their happiness through life. The irregular vivacity from his extraordinary vivacity, and exuberance of spirits, he was inclined to playfulness, and frolic, and, at times, to some degree of mischicvousness ; yet he possessed every quality that can adorn that period of life : activity of body and mind ; an ardent desire for knowledge ; docility in submitting to superior reason ; a mild, obliging temper ; a heart, grateful, affectionate, and highly susceptible of religious feelings. EoiTon. which I possessed, received, however, a very sal- utary control, by my being afterwards placed under the care of a discreet and sensible aunt, who was determined to bring me into some de- gree of order and submission. The great indul- gence with which I had been treated, must have rendered the contest rather severe : for, on a particular occasion, I embraced the opportunity of getting out of a window, and running about on the roof of a small tenement; which was, however, so high, that a fall w ould have endan- gered my life. My aunt was in great distress ; and I believe endeavoured, but in vain, to in- fluence my fears, and, by this means, induce me to return. T moved about for a while, in this perilous situation, and probably enjoyed my tem- porary independence. She, at last, with great prudence, entreated me very tenderly to come to her. But thouo;h this afTected me, I did not comply till I had obtained her promise, that I should not be corrected. She kept her word; but I think she did not relax, in any degree, the general rigour of her discipline towards me. I was at length completely subdued, and brought into regular obedience : and this event proved comfortable to myself, as well as relieving to every one that had any care of me. To this good aunt I am under particular obligations. Her wise and salutary management, may have 8 preparod me for inany enjoyments, and prevent- ed man} miseries of life. At an early period, about my sixtli or seventh year. I was sent to the city of Philadelphia, that I mioht have the advantage of a better school than (he country afforded. I well remember being some time at (he academy of Philadel- phia; (he English department of which was then conducted by the truly respectable Ebenezer Kinnersley. He exercised great care over his pupils, and from what 1 recollect of this in- structer of youth, and what I have read of hlin, I have reason to regret, that my continuance in that seminary was of short duration. I remem- ber to have rend tbere willi pleasure, even at that age, some passages in " The Travels of Cyrus;" and to have been agreeably exercised in the business of parsing sentences. From this academy I was taken, to accom- pany my parents to North Carolina. My father conceived, that some commercial advantages would attend a temporary residence in that pro- vince. When I first landed there, I was much delighted with roving about, after a long con- finement on ship board. In one of these little excursions, I found a few shillings ; which were readily expended in some loaves of bread, for the refreshment of the sailors. These people had been kind to me, during the voyage ; and I could not, therefore, think of any more pleasing apphcation of mj treasure, than in treating them with some excellent fresh bread. Their grateful acceptance, and enjoyment, of this little gift, was doubtless a rich reward for my attention to them. In the year 1753, my father left Carolina; and, with his family, settled at New- York. In this city, I was placed at a good school, in which I made the usual progress of young learners. Being extremely fond of play, I believe I rarely neglected any opportunity of indulging this pro- pensity. At the times of vacation, I generally enjoyed myself with diversions, till the period for returning to school approached. I then applied myself vigorously to the task that had been pre- viously assigned me ; and I do not recollect that I ever failed to perform it, to the satisfaction of my teacher. A heedless boy, I was far from reflecting, how much more prudent it would have been, if I had, in the first place, secured the lesson, and afterwards indulged myself in my playful pursuits. These would not then have been interrupted, by uneasy reflections on the subject of my task, or by a consciousness of un- warrantable negligence. — Sometimes I absented myself from school, to enjoy a greater degree oi play and amusement. During these pleasures, the idea of impending correction, would occa- 4 10 sionally come across my mind : but I resolutely repelieil it, as an intruder ^vhich would unneces- sarily imbitter my present enjoyment. I con- cluded that if I must be corrected, I would not lose the pleasure I then had : and I gave full scope to my diversions. Had I allowed myself proper time to consider consequences, I might have prevented both the disgrace and the pain of punishment, as well as that degree of insen- sibility to dishonourable action, which such fear- less irregularities are apt to produce. About this period, a very happy impression was made upon my mind, by a piece w hich was given me to write, and in the performance of Avhich I had to exhibit a specimen of my best hand writ ins;. The sheet was decorated round its edges with a number of pleasing figures, dis- played with taste and simplicity. In the centre, my performance was to be contained. This was a transcript of the visit and salutation of the angels to the shepherds, near Bethlehem, who were tending their flocks by night. The beauty of the sheet ; the property I was to have in it ; and the distinction which I expected from per- forming the work in a handsome manner; pre- pared my mind for relishing the solemn narra- tive and the interesting language of the angels to the shepherds. I was highly pleased with the wliole. The impression was so strong and de- 11 lightful, that it has often occurred to me, through life, with great satisfaction; and, at this hour, it is remembered with pleasure. The passage has scarcely ever been read by me, without emotions of an interesting nature. Independently of the attractive circumstances which I have depicted, the narrative and message are, indeed, most important and aflfecting to every serious mind. — If parents and others who have the care of young persons, w ould be studious to seize occasions of presenting the Holy Scriptures to them, under favourable and inviting points of view, it would probably be attended w ith the happiest effects. A veneration for these sacred volumes, and a pleas- ure in perusing them, may be excited by agreea- able and interesting associations ; and these im- pressions, thus early made, there is reason to be- lieve, would accompany the mind through the whole of life: a consideration which is of the ut- most importance. But though I might sometimes be disposed, at this period of life, to think and to act properly, I was often impelled by inclinations of a very different nature. I had a curious propensity to discover and observe the natural dispositions of animals. And this curiosity was, in some in- stances, so strong as to make me overlook the uneasiness which, by teasing them, was occa- sioned to the animals themselves. I was not 12 naturally of a crurl disposition ; hut wa^; rather plrasnl to see the animal creation about me, enjoy llieniselves. The propensity I have men- tioned was, however, sometimes unwarrantably indnliTcd : so much so, as to mark a depraved turn ol" mind, whicii, even now, gives me pain to recollect. — 1 ought to have reflected, that all animals have assigned to them by tlie Author of nature, a pleasurable existence ; and tfiat it is our duty to second his intention, as we have opportunity; and especially to avoid all occa- sions of inthcting upon them unnecessary pain. An additional excitement to this duty, is, that whilst we encourage a disposition to promote the pleasures, or increase the pains, of the animals which surround us, we are cherishing the general spirit of benevolence, or its contrary ; which will naturally be extended towards our fellow-crea- tures. In this point of view, it is of very great importance to cultivate, in young persons espe- cially, proper dispositions and conduct towards the creatures endued with animal life. The unwarrantable curiosity which I have just mentioned, continued to operate, in some degree, for many years; and, occasionally, showed itself long after I was grown up. I recollect a par- ticular instance of it, which was very near proving fatal to me; and which, though a little out of the course of my narrative, may not 13 improperly be related in this place. As nearly as I can recollect, the incident was as follows. When I was in England, in the year 1771, 1 went to see the elephants, which were kept at the Queen's stables, Buckingham-house. Whilst 1 was gratifying myself with observing the huge creatures, and their various actions and pecu- liarities, I took occasion to withdraw from one of them a part of the hay, which he was collecting on the floor with his proboscis. I did this with my cane; and watched the animal very narrowly, to prevent a stroke from him, which I had reason to expect. The keeper said that I had greatly displeased the elephant, and that he would never forget the injury. I thought but little of this admonition, at the time. But about six weeks afterwards, when I accompanied some other persons, on a visit to the elephants, I found that, though probably several hundred people had been there since my preceding visit, the animal soon recognised me. I did not attempt to mo- lest or tease him at all ; and 1 had no concep- tion of any concealed resentment. On a sudden, however, when I was supposed to be within the reach of his proboscis, he threw it towards me with such violence, that if it had struck me, 1 should probably have been killed, or have re- ceived some material injury. Happily forme, 1 perceived his intention, and being very active, I 14 sprung out of his reacli. Toevcry other person present, he was gentle and good-tempered ; and his enmity to me arose, as the keeper declared, solely from the circumstance of the little affront "which I iiad formerly put upon him. — This in- cident made some impression upon me; and per- iiaps contributed to subdue a curiosity, which could not be gratified but at the expense of the feelings of others. It is now time to make a pause in the narra- tive. My next letter will pursue it, from the period of my leaving school, and being trained to business. I am affectionately, &c. If) LETTER II. My ^ear Friend, ' It is doubtless of great im- portance to the interest and happiness of young persons, as well as of some consequence to their friends and the public, that their inclinations, genius, and bodily constitutions, should be con- sulted, when they are to be entered on an em- ployment, which will probably continue for life. If the bent of their mind and other qualifica- tions, are duly regarded, success may reasonably be expected: if they are opposed, the progress must be slow, and the ultimate attainments very limited. At an early age, I was placed in the counting house of my father, who was desirous of train- ing me to the mercantile profession. I did not, however, relish this employ, and the confinement to which it subjected me. I wished to be any thing rather than a merchant. And this per- haps may be accounted for, by the strictness with which I was kept to business, and the undue restraints as I conceived, which were put. IG ;it that early period, on my lively spirits and allowable indulgences. My father kept steady to his purpose. He probably ihouoht that my dislike to the business would, in lime, abate. He sent me to Philadelphia, influenced, perhaps, by a hope, that a residence with a merchant at a distance from home, would better reconcile me to the employment. But this expedient did not answer his expectations; and, after some time, he consented to my return to New-York. About this period, I contracted a taste for read- ing, and a desire for a greater degree of literary improvement. The pleasures of study, and the advantages and distinctions, which learning and knowledge had conferred on individuals who fell under my observation, augmented my wishes for the acquisition of science and literature. — Another experiment was, however, made to re- concile me to a mercantile life. My father presented me with a considerable number of silver watches, which he designed as a little trading stock; and which he had just imported, with many other articles, from England. By having the property of these watches, and by the prospect of increasing that property on the sale of them, and thus extending my concerns, in fresh purchases with the product, I began to rehsh the occupation. The spirit of trading took hold of me; and 1 contemplated with pleasure, the 17 future enlargement of my funds. In short, I entered into the business with ardour and satis- faction. At the same time I continued in my father's counting house ; and occasionally assisted in the routine of his commercial affairs. — I doubt not, that he surveyed this success of his schemes for my advantage, with peculiar complacency. But not long after the commencement of my trading engagements, an incident occurred, which seemed to blast all his expectations, and to threaten the most serious consequences to myself. I have sometimes hesitated, respecting the propriety of communicating this little piece of my history. But as it is intimately connected with events of this period, and contains some traits of disposition and character in early life, I have at length concluded to relinquish my scruples on this subject. The following is the occurrence to which I allude. Though my father, as the events already men- tioned demonstrate, had an earnest desire to promote my interest and happiness, yet he appeared to me, in some respects, and on some occasions, rather too rigorous. Among other regulations, he had, with true parental prudence, given me general directions not to leave the house, in an evening, without previ- ously obtaining his approbation. I believe that his permission was generally and readily pro- 5 cured. But a pariicul;\r instance occurrocl, in which, on account of his absence, I could not apply to him. 1 was invited by an uncle to spend the evening with him; and trusting to this circumstance, and to the respectability of my company, I ventured to break the letter, though I thought not the spirit, of the injunction which had been laid upon me. The next morning, I was taken by my father, into a private ajiartment, and remonstrated with for my disobedience. In vain were my apologies. No- thing tliat I could offer, w^as considered as an extenuation of my having broken a plain and positive command. In short, 1 received a very severe chastisement ; and was threatened w ith a repetition of it, for every similar oflence. Being a lad of some spirit, I felt very indignant at such treatment, under circumstances which, as I con- ceived, admitted of so much alleviation. I could not bear it ; and I resolved to leave my father's house, and seek in a distant country, what I conceived to be an asylum, or a better fortune. Young and ardent, I did not want confidence in my own powers; and I presumed that, with health and strength which I possessed in a superior de- gree, I could support myself, and make my way happily through life. I meditated on my plan ; and came to the resolution of taking my books and all my property w ith me, to a town in the in- 19 terior of the country; where 1 had understood there was an excellent seminary, kept by a man of distinguished talents and learning. Here I purposed to remain, till I had learned the French language, which I thought would be of great use to me ; and till I had acquired as much other improvement as my funds would admit. With this stock of knowledge, I presumed that J should set out in life under much greater ad- vantages, than I should possess by entering immediately into business, with my small por- tion of property, and great inexperience. I was then about fourteen years of age. My views being thus arranged, I procured a new suit of clothes, entirely different from those which I had been accustomed to wear, packed up my little all and left the city, without exciting any suspi- cion of my design, till it was too late to prevent its accomplishment. In a short time I arrived at the place of desti- nation. I settled myself immediately as a boarder in the seminary, and commenced my studies. The prospect which I entertained was so luminous and cheering, that, on the whole, I did not regret the part I had acted. Past recol- lections and future hopes combined to animate me. The chief uneasiness which I felt in my present situation, must have arisen from the re- flection of having lost the society and attentions 20 of a most afToctionnto molher, and of having oc- cnsionod 'sorrow to her feelino; mind. But as I had pasj^od the Rnhicon, and beheved I could not bo comfortable at home. 1 contented myself \\\[h the thoucrht. tliat the pursuit of the objects betbre me, was better calculated than any other, to produce my happiness. In this quiet retreat, I had as much enjoyment as my circumstances were adapted to convey. The pleasure of study, and the glow of a fond imagination, brightened the scenes around me. And the consciousness of a state of freedom and independence, undoubted- ly contributed to augment my gratifications, and to animate my youthful heart. But my continu- ance in this delightful situation, was not of long duration. Circumstances of an apparently trivial nature, concurred to overturn the visiona- ry fabric I had formed, and to bring me again to the paternal roof. I had a particular friend, a youth about my own age, who resided at Philadelphia. I wished to pay him a short visit, and then resume my studies. We met according to appointment, at an imi on the road. I enjoyed liis society, and communicated to him my situation and views. But before I returned to my retreat, an occur- rence took place which occasioned me to go to Philadelphia. When I was about to leave that city, as I passed through one of the streets, I 21 met a gentleman who had some time before dined at my father's house. He expressed great pleasure on seeing me ; and inquired when I expected to leave the city. I told him I was then on the point of setting off He thought the occasion very fortunate for him. He had just been with a letter to the post-office ; but found that he was too late. The letter, he said, was of importance ; and he begged that I would deliver it with my own hand, and as soon as I arrived at New-York, to the person for whom it was directed. Surprised by the request, and un- willing to state to him my situation, I engaged to take good care of the letter. 