Pray let me know something of my debt being paid to Tailor, the inn-keeper of.. I have forgot the name of the town-between Dromore and Newry. SIR, LETTER II. To the Rev. Mr. Windar, at Belfast. Dublin, Feb. 19, 1731-2. I HAD the favour of yours of the 6th instant. I have been above a fortnight confined by an accidental strain, and can neither ride nor walk, nor easily write, else you should have heard from me sooner. I am heartily sorry for your disorder, and am the more sensible by those I have myself, though not of the same kind, but a constant disposition to giddiness, which I fear my present confinement, with the want of exercise, will increase. I am afraid you could not light upon a more unqualified man to serve you or my nearest friends, in any manner, with people in power: for, I have the misfortune to be not only under the particular displeasure both of the king and queen, as every body knows, but likewise every person, both in England and Ireland, who is well with the court, and can do me good or hurt. And although this and the two last lieutenants were of my old acquaintance, yet I never could prevail with any of them to give a living to a sober grave clergyman, who married my near relation, and has been long in the church, so that he still is my curate; and I reckon this present governor will do like the rest. I believe there is not any person you see from this town who does not know that my situation is as I describe. If you, or your son, were in favour with any bishop or parson, perhaps it might be contrived to have them put in mind, or solicited; but I am no way proper to be the first mover, because there is not one spiritual or temporal lord in Ireland whom I visit, or by whom I am visited, but am as mere a monk as any in Spain; and there is not a clergyman on the top of a mountain who so little converses with mankind, or is so little regarded by them, on any other account except shewing malice. All this I bear as well as I can; eat my morsel alone, like a king; and constantly at home, when, I am not riding, or walking, which I do often, and always alone. I give you this picture of myself, out of old friendship; whence you may judge what share of spirits and mirth are now left me; yet I cannot read at night, and am therefore forced to scribble something, whereof nine things in ten are burned next morning. Forgive this tediousness in the pen, which I acquire by the want of spending it in talk. And believe me to be, with true esteem and friendship, your most obedient, humble servant, &c. 1794, July. [No signature.] LXXXVI. The Rev. Dean Tillotson, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, to Mr. Nicholas Hunt, of that City, labouring under a Cancer, of which he died A.D. 1687. SIR, I AM sorry to understand by Mr. Janeway's letter that your distemper grows upon you, and that you seem to decline so fast. I am very sensible how much easier it is to give advice against trouble in the case of another, than to take it in our own. It hath pleased God to exercise me with a very sore trial in the loss of my dear and only child; in which I do perfectly submit to his good pleasure; firmly believing that he does, always, that which is best; and yet, though Reason be satisfied, our passions are not so soon appeased; and, when Nature hath received a wound, time must be allowed for the healing of it. Since that, God hath thought fit to give me a nearer summons, and a closer warning of my own mortality, in the danger of an apoplexy; which yet, I thank God for it, hath occasioned no very melancholy reflections. But this, perhaps, is more owing to natural temper than philosophy and wise considerations. Your case is very different, who are of a temper naturally melancholy, and under a distemper apt to increase it: for both which great ailowances ought to be made. And yet, methinks, both Reason and Religion do offer us consider ations of that solidity and strength as may very well support our spirits under all frailties and infirmities of the flesh. Such as these that God is perfect love and goodness; that we are not only his creatures, but also his children, and are as dear to him as to ourselves; that he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men; and that all evils of affliction are intended for the cure and prevention of the greater evils of sin and punishment: and, therefore, we ought not only to submit to them with patience, as being deserved by us, but to receive them with thankfulness, as being designed by him to do us that good, and to bring us to that sense of him, and of ourselves, which perhaps nothing else would have done; that the sufferings of this present life are but slight and short compared with those extreme and endless miseries which we have deserved, and with those exceeding weights of glory which we hope for in the other world. If we be careful to make the best preparation for death and eternity, whatever brings us nearer to our end brings us nearer to our happiness: and, how rugged soever the way, the comfort is, that it leads to our Father's house, where we shall want nothing that we can wish for. Now we labour under a dangerous distemper that threatens our life, what would we not be contented to bear in order to a perfect recovery, could we be but assured of it? And should we not be willing to endure much more in order to happiness and that eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, hath promised? Nature, I know, is fond of life, and apt to be still lingering after a long continuance here; and yet, long life, with the usual burthens and infirmities of it, is seldom desirable. It is but the same thing over again, or worse; so many more nights and days, summers and winters; a repetition of the same pleasures, but with less pleasure and relish every day is turned off; the same and greater pain and trouble, but with less strength and patience to bear them. These and the like considerations I use to entertain myself withal; not only with content but with comfort, though with great inequality of temper at several times, and with much mixture of human frailties, which will always stick to us whilst we are in this world. However, by this kind of thoughts, death seems more familiar to us; and we shall be able, by degrees, to bring our minds close up to it without starting at it. The greatest tenderness I find in myself is in regard to some relations, especially the dearest and constant companion of my life; which, I must confess, doth very sensibly touch me. But when I consider-and so, I hope, will they also that separation will be but a very little while; and, though I shall leave them in a bad world, yet under the care of a good God, who can be more and better to them than all other relations, and will be certainly so to all them 'that love him, and hope in his mercy; I shall not need to advise you what to do, and what use to make of this time of your visitation. I have reason to believe you have been careful, in the time of your health, to prepare for the evil day; and have been conversant in those books which give the best directions to this purpose; and have not, as too many do, put off the greatest work of your life to the end of it: and then you have nothing left but, as well as you can, under your present weakness and pain, to review all the errors and miscarriages of your life; and earnestly to beg God's pardon and forgiveness of them, for His sake who is the propitiation for our sins. Comfort yourself in the goodness and promises of God, and the hope of that happiness into which you are ready to enter: and, in the mean time, exercise faith and patience for a little while, and be of good courage, since you see land. The storm you are in will soon be over, and then it will be as if it had never been; or, rather, the remembrance of it will be a pleasure. I do not use to write such long letters; but that I do heartily compassionate your case, and should be glad if I could suggest any thing that might help to mitigate your trouble, and make the sharp and rugged way, through which you are to pass into a better world, a little more smooth and easy. I pray God fit us both for that great change which we must one day undergo; and, if we be in any good measure fit, sooner or later makes no great difference. I com-. mend you to the good Father of Mercies and God of all Consolation, beseeching Him to increase your faith and patience, and to stand by you in your last and great conflict; that, when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you may fear no evil; and, when your heart fails you, and your strength fails, you may find Him the strength of your heart, and your portion for ever! Farewell, my good friend; and, whilst we are here, let us pray one for another, that we may have a joyful meeting in the other world. So I rest your truly affectionate friend and servant, 1795, April, JOHN TILLOTSON. LXXXVII. Lewis Morris, Esq. to his Brother, William Morris, Comptroller of the Customs, Holyhead, on Mine-knockers. DEAR BROTHER, Oct. 14, 1754. PRAY let me know the truth of the report, that Huw Llwyd (Hugh Lloyd) throws sticks at Newhaven; pray inquire closely into the affair: I do not think it impossible but the aërial part of such a fellow may be condemned to act like a fool who so long acted the knave. I have heard it affirmed by very sober men in Merionethshire, that Mr. Wynne, of Ystumllyn, can do some surprising things, which we call supernatural, by producing the appearances of distant persons; not that they are, perhaps, really above nature, but that they are done by some means that are not commonly known, or that can be accounted for; as electricity and magnetism are secrets of that kind, though really natural. Be so good as to let me know the common opinion of people in your parts about Mr. Wynne, and whether he really performed those things before sober, sensible, sedate men. I am not over credulous about those things; and scepticism is madness; for, we really know (in general) very little or nothing in comparison to what is to be known. The great Lord Bacon owns it; and that temper of mind in him brought him to inquire into the depth of Nature beyond any man that was born before him. People who knew very little of arts or sciences, or the powers of Nature (which, in other words, are the powers of the Author of Nature), being full of conceit of their own abilities and knowledge, will laugh at us Cardiganshire miners, who maintain the existence of knockers in mines, a kind of good natured impalpable people, but to be seen and heard, and who seem to us to work in the mines; that is to say, they are types, or forerunners of working in mines, as dreams are of some accidents which happen to us. The barometer falls before rain and storms. If we did not know the construction of it, we should call it a kind of a dream that foretels rain; but we know it is natural, and produced by natural means comprehended by us. Now how are we sure, or any body sure, but that our dreams are produced by the same kind of natural means? There is some faint resemblance of this in the sense of hearing; the bird is killed before we hear the report of the gun. However this is, I must speak well of these knockers, for they have actually stood my very good friends, whether they are aërial beings called spirits, or whether they are a people made of matter not to be felt by our gross bodies, as air and fire and the like. Before the discovery of Esgair y Mwyn mine, these little people (as we call them here) worked hard there day and night; and there are abundance of honest sober people who have heard them, and some persons who have no notion of them or of mines either; but, after the discovery of the great ore, they were heard no |