LETTERS.

MY DEAR N.

TO MISS N. R.

ALEXANDRIA, JUNE 25, 1784.

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FROM the intimate acquaintance which

has for a considerable time subsisted between us, I am induced to believe, that you will take in good part, the freedom of a familiar letter. It is dictated by sentiments of sincere and tender regard for you, designed, while it gratifies my own feelings, to afford you, if not an improving entertainment, at least an innocent amusement in some of your unemployed moments.

The esteem which I have entertained for your very worthy parents, ever since my first knowledge of them, would naturally lead me to indulge some partiality for those also, who must be particularly dear to them, in the relation of children. Even upon this principle, I have always derived much pleasure, from that unreserved intercourse with you all, from the eldest to the youngest, which I have enjoyed during the short stay that I am allowed to make in the family, once in the year since your removal from Alexandria. But this pleasure, I can with sincerity assure you, is greatly increased by those promising appearances in your character, which incline me to hope, that, as you severally advance forward on the stage of life, you will individually merit the respect that is always paid to virtue, and

conciliate the love and favour, which are always shewn to persons of agreeable dispositions, and amiable conduct. While I freely express this sentiment, which I think to be true in itself, and not improper to be communicated to you, I have no inclination to deal in the language of flattery. My only aim is to encourage those principles, and to cherish those opening buds, which may hereafter, with due culture, be productive of the happiest consequences, and crowned with the most desirable fruit.

I need not remark to you, my dear, that you are now arrived at an age, when the little pursuits and amusements, which properly enough engage the attention and constitute the happiness of children, would be to you as unbecoming, as they are unseasonable. I have no room to doubt, but that you have commenced the young woman, with sentiments suited to support and adorn that more important character, in which you now appear. I am sure that the motives which serve to enforce the cultivation of such sentiments, and of a correspondent practice, are too obvious not to be discerned; too forcible not to be felt, by you. They are drawn from the consideration of your own credit and interest, which upon the score of a justifiable and laudable self-love, cannot but be very dear to you; and from a principle of gratitude to those, whose study it has been to furnish your mind with every valuable accomplishment, of which it was susceptible in the earlier days of your youth. To the soft, but powerful, influence of this most amiable principle of your nature, your tender bosom cannot be insensible. And how pleasing, how delightful must be the sensations which will arise in your own heart from the reflection, that while you are pursuing your own truest honor and happiness, in

those paths of piety and virtue, which the affectionate care of your parents has so early marked out, and so earnestly recommended to your choice; you are at the same time making them the best, the most satisfactory return, which they could possibly wish to receive. To such a kind requital, they have surely the best founded claim: and as I am well convinced, that you are not wanting in a disposition to pay it, so it is with the sincerest pleasure, I find, that your endeavours in that way have not been ineffectual. Your dear moth er expresses, in terms not a little flattering, her approbation of your conduct; and also of that of your little sisters, since the weighty charge of the family has fallen, in so great a degree, upon herself. Her instructions and example, I doubt not, have had an happy influence. Let them be duly attended to for the time to You cannot fail to profit greatly by them. And think how happy it will make your honored father, should he be restored to you, to participate in the praises, which he shall find his children have been, and I trust will still continue to be, ambitious to deserve.

come.

But whether he is reserved for the enjoyment of so great a satisfaction, is yet to us a distressing uncertainty. What the determination of Providence respecting him may have been, time will at length discover; and possibly the discovery may be such, as will gratify the warmest wishes of all who are now anxiously concerned for his safety. In the mean time, this we have the best ground to believe, that it is well with him. There is no situation into which he may be cast, but what I trust will be sanctified to his benefit. And if his con-, nexion with this life has ceased; if the happy days which he has heretofore spent with the amiable partner

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of his bosom, with the children of his love, are not to be renewed; if the joys which he might have yet promised himself, from this purest and richest source of earthly felicity, are not to be realized; let us comfort ourselves with the hope, with the assured persuasion, that he has a far happier lot in the glorious family of heaven, where the pleasures of friendship are undissembled and complete; where the blessings of society are exalted to their highest perfection, and permanent as eternity. In whatever manner this very interesting matter may be ordered, it certainly becomes us, with unrepining resignation, to acquiesce in the event, and to adore the hand by which it has been directed; not doubting but that what God has done, is intended to accomplish some design of infinite wisdom, goodness, and love to him, and to all intimately and tenderly connected with him.

I know, my dear N. that to be deprived, should it be your lot, so early in life, of so valuable a parent, is an affliction in itself, very severe, and which you must deeply feel. Yet, let it be considered, that even this, as well as every other painful stroke which you have already felt, or which may yet await you, may be overruled, so as to work for good, and will infallibly do so, if wisely improved. It is good, as the Prophet expresses it, to bear the yoke in one's youth. Our condition must be privileged beyond the common lot of the most virtuous and the most happy on earth, if we do not often, during our progress through life, experience the bitterness of disappointment in some of our favourite hopes, and suffer the painful loss of some of our most valued enjoyments. It may therefore be highly expedient and salutary, to set out in life, under a disci

pline, adapted to form the mind to habits of reflection and resignation, by which it will be best prepared to meet, and to sustain, the trials of succeeding years. Trials, of one kind or other, must be expected by all the children of Adam, who are born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward. They usually become more frequent and painful, as we proceed further in our pilgri mage through life; and they are, if not absolutely necessary, at least highly conducive to the safety and prosperity of our souls. Wise and happy are they, who have been early taught to view them in this light, and to bear them, when they come, with suitable humility and patience.

Whatever may be the portion of affliction allotted to you, I hope you will never allow yourself to sink in despondence under it but that you will study to add to that softness and sensibility of heart, by which I wish to see you ever distinguished, that spirit of christian faith and fortitude, which overcometh the world. This is to be sought by earnest prayer, and to be cherished by a life of sincere piety, and uniform holiness. And they who conscientiously aim to approve themselves to God in these duties, trusting in the merits and grace of the Redeemer, for their acceptance and reward, may, even in the darkest day and most trying hour of life, rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of their salvation. For the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting, to those who thus keep his covenant, and to those who thus remember his commandments to do them. As a Father pitieth his children, so will the Lord pity those who thus fear and serve him. Such he will never leave nor forsake. From such he will never take away his loving kindness.