was determined to be like Diogenes, who would rather sustain the blows of the stick of his master Antisthenes, than be deprived of the advantage of his school.

The following are some of the promiscuous tracts of his mere private character, and I presume this is no improper place in which to give them. He used too much severity to young people, and required too much from them. He connected circumstances too humiliating with public services, in a young man with whom he could take liberty; urging that it was necessary as a curb to the vanity of human nature, and referred to the young Roman orators, who after being exalted by applauses, were sent upon the most trifling errands. His maxim was, if you love me you will serve me disinterestedly; hence he settled no certain income, or a very slender one upon his dependents, many of whom were sycophants, and while they professed to serve him, under-handedly served themselves effectually. Under this defect his charity in Georgia was materially injured. Owing to the wrong conduct of some who insinuated themselves into his favor by humouring his weakness, and letting him act and speak without contradiction. He was impatient of contradiction; but this is

a fault to be charged upon almost all great people. I could mention some. He was not happy in his wife, but I fear some who had not all the religion they professed contributed to his infelicity. He did not intentionally make his wife unhappy. He always preserved great decency and decorum in his conduct towards her. Her death set his mind much at liberty. She certainly did not behave in all respects as she ought. She could be under no temptation from his conduct towards the sex, for he was a very pure man, a strict example of the chastity he inculcated upon others. No time was to be wasted; and his expectations generally went before the ability of his servants to perform his commands. He was very exact to the time appointed for his stated meals; a few minutes delay would be considered a great fault. He was irritable, but soon appeased. Not patient enough one day to receive a reason for his being disappointed under a particular occurrence, he hurt the mind of one who was studious to please; he discovered it by the tears it occasioned, and on reflection, he himself burst into tears, saying, "I shall live to be a poor peevish old man, and every body will be tired of me." He frequently broke the force of his passion by saying, "how could you do so,

I would not have served you so." He never commanded haughtily, and always took care to applaud when a person did right. He never indulged parties at his table; a select few might now and then breakfast with him, dine with him on a Sunday, or sup with him on a Wednesday night. In the latter indulgence he was scrupulously exact to break up in time. In the height of a conversation I have known him abruptly say, "But we forget ourselves," and rising from his seat, and advancing to the door, add "Come, gentlemen, it is time for all good folks to be at home." Whether only by himself, or having but a second, his table must have been spread elegantly, though it produced but a loaf and a cheese. He was unjustly charged with being given to appetite. His table never was spread with variety. A cow heel was his favorite dish, and I have known him cheerfully say, "How surprised would the world be, if they were to peep upon Doctor Squintum, and see a cow heel only upon his table." He was neat to the extreme in his person and every thing about him. Not a paper must have been out of place, or put up irregularly. Each part of the furniture must have 'been likewise in its place before we retreated to rest. He said he did not think he should die

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easy, if he thought his gloves were out of their place. There was no rest after four in the morning, nor sitting up after ten in the evening. He never made a purchase but he paid the money immediately; for small articles the money was taken in the hand. He was truly generous, and seldom denied relief. More was expected from him than was meet. He was tenacious in his friendship, and when the transition of providence moved from prosperity to adversity, he moved with it to abide by his friend. He felt sensibly when he was deserted, and would remark, "The world and the church ring changes." Disappointed by many, he had not sufficient confidence in mankind; and from hence I believe it was, he dreaded the thought of out-living his usefulness. He often dined among his friends, usually connected a comprehensive prayer with his thanksgiving when the table was dismissed, in which he noticed particular cases relative to the family, and never protracted his visit long after dinner. He appeared often tired of popularity; and said, he almost envied the man who could take his choice of food at an eating house, and pass unnoticed. He apprehended he should not glorify God in his death by any remarkable testimony, and was desirous to die suddenly.

Thus, my dear friend, I have aimed to gather up the fragments of a character truly excellent, that nothing may be lost. It is the character of a man who had his infirmities, but whose excellences bore a far greater proportion. He knew himself, and lived under a measure of self-abhorrence, but he knew he was the redeemed of the Lord, and extolled that name by which he was called, Not to detract, but justly to represent, is my object in what I have written concerning him. I had no claim upon him when he took me into his house. I was abundantly indebted to him for his kindness, and his memory will be dear to me while with my hand I can subscribe myself,

Your's, very affectionately,

In our dear Lord Jesus.

LETTER IX.

MY VERY Dear friend,

By taking notice of the history of the first methodists, you may perceive they abounded in letter-writing. I have condemned myself for indulging correspondence, from conviction I should have been otherwise employed,