be to enter more largely into the discussion, yet did I think myself sufficiently possessed of either, I would certainly reprobate in the severest terms that rash and thoughtless haste which too often marks the decision of students and youthful ministers in this respect, and which too frequently leads to settled distress,-final ruin,-or shameful infidelity! To the honor of Spencer be it recorded, that his choice in the first instance displayed his wisdom: his uniform attachment until death,-his constancy! Mr. Spencer preached again at the Countess of Huntingdon's chapel at Brighton on Thursday evening, January 5th, and left that place on the following day. On the ensuing Sunday he preached at Holloway, morning and afternoon; and on the evening of Tuesday the 10th, addressed an immense congregation from the pulpit of that truly excellent man, the Rev. Rowland Hill, at Surry chapel. The subject ofhis discourse was Deut. xxxiii, 3, Yea he loved the people; all his saints are in thy hand, and they sat down at thy feet, every one shall receive of thy words!' Between this date and the following midsummer, his labors appear to have been, in point both of num. ber and success, truly astonishing. He now preached much in and about London, and wherever his name was announced, the crowd that flocked to his ministry, proved how extensive and deep the impression was which it had excited. Besides occupying many of the most respectable pulpits in the metropolis, during this period, he visited and preached in the following places, Guildford, Epsom, Worthing, Barking, Roydon, Dorking, Buntingford, Winchmore-Hill, Saffron Walden, and Hertford. During his stay at Worthing, which was in the month of February, he made several excursions to Brighton, which became more endeared to him by every visit. The attachment was mutual. His ministry excited universal attention: multitudes pressed to hear him. The public prints declared their admiration of his powers; and the private circle forgot the trifling topics of the day, intent upon the discussion of his rare and extraordinary talents. More especially did he bind to him, in affectionate remembrance, the hearts of the young, by the warmth, simplicity, and affection of his addresses to them: and in no place which was honored by his labors, was his worth more fully appreciated in life, or his loss more deeply and universally lamented in death! On the evening of Thursday, the 18th of May, he preached again at Hoxton chapel. His text on that occasion was Isaiah lxi, 10, I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation; he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness. But by so much preaching and fatigue, his strength became exhausted and his health impaired; and dur. ing the midsummer vacation, the committee superintending the stations of the preaching students, appointed him to spend some weeks at Dorking, in Surrey, where the labor was but small, the retirement deep, the country beautiful, and the air salubrious! To this place he went in the beginning of July, having first paid a visit to his family at Hertford, and preached again in his native town. Dorking he was committed to the care of Mrs. Alexander, a kind and pious matron, whose hospitable attention to all the servants of Christ who have had the happiness to repose beneath her roof, renders her worthy the appropriate epithet of "Mother in Isra At el." The praises of such pious women are, and ought to be, in all the churches. Happy is that congregation which possesses one or two such valuable and useful characters. To the youthful preachers who may be commissioned from their respective academies to labor for awhile, in the congregations to which they belong, they often prove an inestimable blessing. By their timely assiduities, not unfrequently, diseases the most serious and alarming may be averted, by which valuable ministers might have been early snatched from the church and from the world; and, at any rate, those little offices of unaffected kindness, in the performance of which they so much excel, will tend to soothe the anxieties by which, in early life, many a delicate frame is prematurely wasted and impaired! For Spencer too the spot was admirably chosen. Nothing could better suit his fondness for retirement, and love of social or solitary walks. I am not a stranger to the scenery-I once visited it, like him, for relaxation; and the remembrance of those happy days, in a thousand pleasing pictures and enchanting forms, crowds at this moment on my mind. The country is sufficiently bold and varied to inspire with ideas of grandeur and magnificence, though not so romantic and vast as to excite astonishment and terror. From the summit of abrupt and lofty hills, clothed with luxuriant foliage, the delighted eye may roam at leisure over woods and valleys, that will not yield in fruitfulness and beauty to the fairest plains of Italy; and in deep embowered glens, made cool and fragrant by meandering streams, the mind may yield to melancholy musings and to solemn thought -so unbroken is the silence,-so profound the solitude!* During his stay at Dorking it was his happiness to form a friendship the most intimate and endeared * In one of these retired dells, where art has followed up the rude design of nature, a rustic temple, unadorned and simple as the genius of the place, affords to the weary wanderer its temporary rest. A grateful poet has left some tributary lines in honor of the scene, of which they are so descriptive, that I hope I shall be pardoned if I introduce them here: "Stranger, whenceso'er you come, To our simple homely fare, Bury in this wooded glen, All the cares of busy men; While the streams that round us roll, Sweetly murmuring, soothe the soul! See, the glorious orb of day Stranger, rest thee here awhile, Worn and wasted by disease, Come, and chase her on our hills; Health and peace, and joy are here; with Mr. J. Haddon, of London; and on the return of that gentleman to town, Mr. Spencer began an epistolary correspondence with him, which continued till his death. A valuable assortment of these letters have been kindly put into my hands, and with the greater part of them I shall enrich these pages. The following is, I believe, the first in the series: No. 15. TO MR. JOHN HADDON. "MY WORTHY FRIEND, Dorking, July 25th, 1809. "I know no other way of expressing the pleasure your letters and your society have afforded me, than by endeavoring to repay your kindness, or at least by shewing you that I am sensible of the obligations under which I am laid by you. The pleasant interviews, the truly social walks, and the various other enjoyments which we experienced together, have left an impression of attachment to yourself on my mind, which I am persuaded will not be easily obliterated. The country is indeed as pleasant in itself now, as it was the week before last; yet believe me, it is not half so mech enjoyed by me as it was then. The same streams indeed glide pleasantly along the same hills majestically rise-the same enlivening prospects strike the eye, and pervade the soul, with admiration-and every thing around me seems to say, 'Tis Surrey still;' but there is a sad deficiency in all my perambulations—it 11 |