66 the root, of our salvation. Thus is He the author and finisher of our faith, and the author of salvation to all them that obey Him. He has promised to all, as well as to David, to perfect the thing which concerneth his people: whom he loveth, he loveth to the end; trust him, therefore, evermore. Such is the Christian's doctrinal, practical, and experimental creed. "I preached, on Sunday, a right loyal sermon for poor queen Charlotte, and traversed all the useful and exemplary features in her character. This day she is to be buried. Peace to her memory! Poor king George! In the midst of life he is, as it were, in death-in light, darkness-in riches, poor-in splendour, dulness -in society, solitary :-yet, happily, not dead-not dark-not poor-not dull-not solitary. Providence hangs a veil of mystery over him, but grace illumines it, even while we can scarcely discern through it the form of our revered monarch. consolations and companions from on high. He has the peace which the world cannot give, nor sickness take away; therefore he is a happy man. Our journey was well bestowed on Fanny, and will, I hope, leave a lasting impression on her mind, of a useful sort. I do with you hope that my valuable acquaintance may be of future use to my children; the 'promise,' you know, 'is not only to us, but to them.'" He sees The following letter, addressed by Mr. Richmond to his wife, enables us to supply some information relative to the last moments of his father; at the same time that it affords a fine illustration of the faith and resignation of his mother. The event here alluded to, occurred at Stockport, in Cheshire, in the year 1806. "Dearest Mary, "I sent you a few hastily penned lines last night. As soon as I had finished them, I went to our medical friend, from whom I had a regular account of the melancholy event which has brought me here. I had previously written a note, that I might be shown into a room with my dear mother alone. I then went with Mary, and found my mother in a most interesting struggle between divine consolation and natural affection. My first words, after an interval of silence, were, ‘are you supported, my dear mother?' 'Beyond all hope and expectation,' was the reply. 'Do you feel the consolations of Religion ?' 'I am resigned to the stroke, though it rends my heart in two. I may weep; but I dare not, will not complain. I never deserved him; he was lent to me, and now God has taken him again. You are come to support a poor widowed mother's heart; and I know you will be, what your dear sister Fanny has already been, the prop and strength of my age and affliction.' I was astonished and melted at her fortitude and resignation. I find my dear father's mind, for three weeks past, was calm and tranquil, expressive of much faith, patience, and hope. My mother was reading that exquisite commentary of Bishop Horne, on the 23d Psalm. He observed, at the close of the fourth verse, 'that is heavenly, and it is my comfort.' He then suddenly said, 'my head is giddy,' staggered to the sofa, and fell into my mother's arms; his eyes fixed, and a deadly paleness on his face. She contrived to ring the bell, and instantly returned to him; he gasped for breath, and groaned twice. The servant came in and lifted up his legs; he gave one more slight struggle, and breathed out his soul in my mother's arms. She sat with him two hours in silent composure; unable to weep, but calm in grief. That night she could not sleep, but gained relief by much weeping. Fanny arrived on Sunday evening, and slept with our dear mother. After I had sat for half an hour yesterday evening, the rest came in one by one, and we fell into a solemn but tranquil conversation. My very heart was ready to burst; but I concealed my feelings as much as possible. After a while, I went to see the body of my father. As we proceeded up stairs, I found my legs tremble, and when I came to the room door, I staggered; but instantly offering up a prayer for strength, felt relieved, and advanced. "Instead of seeing any thing to inspire terror, I beheld his wellknown and honoured countenance so calm, heavenly, mild, and unaltered, that it seemed only like a sweet sleep. I never felt more composed; and we sat three-quarters of an hour, chiefly in silent contemplation. I could only now and then interrupt it by, 'Oh! how sweet a countenance !-there is nothing terrible in this! It is the emblem of peace and composure. Oh! my dear father! I could have wished to have closed your eyes-but God's will be done!' With difficulty I left the room. I went down to supper. Afterwards, I requested all the house to assemble, and read 1 Cor. xv.; and then offered up a solemn and appropriate prayer. Great feeling pervaded us all. "This morning at nine o'clock, commenced the business of the funeral. My heart again failed me. I was excessively tried in the procession through the church-yard, and in the church. I was, however, inwardly strengthened, and shed the last tear over his remains. "On returning to the house, for a moment I fainted, but recovered. Indeed, my dear love, it has been a very trying scene to me. A thousand tender recollections of past days have successively crowded upon my mind; and every object here reminds me so much of a beloved and revered parent, that I cannot but feel deeply. "He seems to have had a presentiment of his approaching end, but rather concealed it from others. I never felt myself of such power to console as at this moment. My dear mother says, 'You are my oak, and I am a poor ivy clinging around you: now you are my child indeed.'” The ensuing letter contains all the particulars with which we are furnished respecting the decease of this excellent woman, in January, 1819. It is addressed to one of his daughters. He had previously seen her on his return from Scotland, in the preceding autumn; and remarked that she looked more aged, though not complaining; but she expressed her apprehensions that they were meeting for the last time. "My dear F "I am just returned, after executing the difficult and affecting task of preaching a funeral sermon for my most excellent and revered mother, at her parish church. I took my subject from Psalm cxv. 1. as best suited to her humble, meek, and believing frame of mind. It was indeed a trying effort; but God carried me through surprisingly. I introduced some very interesting papers, which I have found amongst her memoranda, in her own hand-writing. Her last message to me was 'Tell my son, I am going direct to happiness.' "Never was there a more delightful and heavenly countenance than her's, as she lay in her coffin; it combined every sentiment which the most devout mind could desire: love-joy-peace-gentleness-goodness-faith-meekness-charity, all shone serenely bright. I followed her to her grave, in Lancaster church-yard, where she lies under a sycamore tree, amid the magnificent landscape of sea, mountains, rivers, castle, and church around. You remember its high beauties. But you very imperfectly know the high qualities of head and heart which your grandmamma possessed-I never met with her equal at the same age. I occupy her little room, adjoining her bed-room, by day; and it is a great consolation to me to sit in her arm-chair and think of her, and read her pa pers on various subjects. There you and I took leave of her, in November last-but, alas! her place knoweth her no more! I look out of the window, at the grand range of snow-capt mountains, which are now beautiful in the extreme. I had no conception of the winter beauties of these hills;-Lansdale Piles, Rydal Head, Hill Bell, Helvellyn, &c. &c. all finely illuminated with snow-sunshine, in diversified shades. And then I think of my dear mother, and how she enjoyed their characteristic grandeur. "Letters pour in daily, from all parts of England, condoling with us in our great loss. My mother was loved and honoured most extensively. Dear woman! for forty-seven years I have proved thy affection, and can trace, from earliest infancy, the tokens of thy worth. May I follow thee in humility, faith, and love; and cherish thy memory with gratitude and honour!" The following lines were inscribed on the tombstone of the late Mrs. Richmond, which is inclosed with iron railing, and placed under a sycamore tree in Lancaster church-yard, on the west side, erected by her three afflicted children to her memory:— Sacred to the memory of Catharine, widow of Henry Richmond, M. D. (formerly of Liverpool, and late of Bath,) and daughter of John Atherton, Esq, late of Walton Hall, in this county, who departed this life, January the 30th, 1819; in the eighty-fourth year of her age. The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness. C. R. SOLI DEO GLORIA. What though Affliction here would heave a sigh, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy and for thy truth's sake. The following obituary, relating to this event, was inserted in one of the periodicals of the day: "On January 30th, 1819, died, at Leighton Hall, near Lancaster, aged 83, Catharine, widow of Dr. Henry Richmond, formerly of Liverpool, and late of Bath. Mrs. Richmond was, through life, distinguished by superior intellectual faculties, cultivated taste, and most amiable manners. These she retained to the last. But these qualities were only subservient to a solid and enlightened piety of heart, founded upon a cordial reception of the principles of the Gospel of Christ. The deep humility of her disposition, her meek and quiet spirit, and her devotional sense of a Saviour's mercies have seldom been exceeded. With her increasing age, God blessed her with increasing enjoyment of divine truths; and enabled her to meditate, converse, and correspond upon them with a vigour of mind, sobriety of judgment, and simplicity of affection, which proved the holy source from whence they proceeded. "Her son engaged in the affecting task of preaching her funeral sermon, in the parish church of Warton, on Sunday, Feb. 14, to a large congregation, from Psalm cxv. 1; a subject selected as being peculiarly expressive of her own views and feelings when living. The mingled tears of relatives, friends, domestics, and neighbours, bore an interesting testimony to the love and veneration in which her memory is held." Thus had Mr. Richmond the delightful consolation of knowing, that both his parents departed in the hope and peace of the Gospel. Happy is it when the bonds of nature are knit more closely by those of grace!—when the child and the parent are partakers of the same Christian hope, running the same race, and looking forward to the same eternal rest and glory! "Oh! what is death? 'Tis life's last shore, Where vanities are vain no more! Where all pursuits their goal obtain, And life is all retouched again : Where, in their bright results, shall rise Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys." CHAPTER XIV. Letter, and verses-Extracts from Diary-Tours to Scotland-Iona-Letters; friendly, family, and pastoral-Memoir of Miss Sinclair. MR. RICHMOND, in his northern tours for the religious societies, often visited Scotland. On one of these occasions, he left his eldest daughter under the hospitable roof of Dr. and Mrs. S- near Glasgow, with whom he had formed a particular intimacy. But , |