marriage) allowed any one to be constantly in the room with him; because the presence, even of a servant, restrained him from praying with his voice. And, after marriage, he was not pleased when any were present upon those occasions, but she alone, with whom he was free from these reserves. Such deep impressions had humility made in his soul, that no sickness, no pain, could in the least get the better of it.

His charity to the poor, though very great and extensive for his fortune, (as will be afterwards shewn) yet was always managed with the greatest secrecy and modesty imaginable; it being his great endeavour to conceal it as much as possible; of which we may be convinced by the following meditation, wherein he enquires, why, by doing our alms openly, we have no reward?

"The end of alms, is not solely to relieve the poor; for what was the widow's mite (which yet was a great charity) to this purpose? God needs not our alms for this end, no more than he did the sacrifices of old, to enrich himself. All the beasts of the forest are mine,' saith God. In like manner, with one act of his will, he could enrich (if he thought fit) all the poor in the world. But he requires our alms, as he did the sacrifices of old, only as testimonies, or fruits of the inward graces of our minds. A sacrifice without contrition, is a vain oblation; but the sacrifices of God are a broken heart. Again, the poor are as truly relieved by alms without charity, as with it; which shews, that the relief of the poor is not primarily intended by God, but a sincere desire of pleasing him.

'Tis then the inward graces of the mind that are rewarded by God; such as true humility, contempt of the world, reliance on God's providence, and sincere desire to please him; which graces cannot be in the mind of one that affects to do his alms openly. For what humility is there in one that is greedy of vain glory? what reliance on God's providence, in one that thinks to purchase favours from the world, by shews of goodness? what contempt of the world, in one that traffics with it, and hopes for rewards from it? what sincere desire to please God, in one that above all things seeks to please men? so then, here being no graces to be rewarded, no reward is to be expected. In some, outward acts have the outward rewards; which, by the established laws of God in nature, arise from them, as trees spring from seeds; but the inward and spiritual acts of the mind, have spiritual and eternal rewards assigned them by God.

"Vain glory is opposite, not only to one grace, but eats out the life of all graces in our souls. We have great reason, therefore, to watch against this vice with all our care, especially in religious matters: For if the light that is in us be darkness, how great is that darkness?' If the good we do be principally designed to please men, how void are we of all goodness?"

He used to wish there were some Church in Dublin, wherein the Holy Sacrament were administered every Lord's day; "for going about from Church to Church,” he said, "had something of ostentation in it ;" and it was with difficulty that he at last conquered this scruple. And when he went to Churches, to which he was not accustomed, he generally chose the most

private place, where he might be least observed, and least disturbed; and when he was so happily placed, he always continued upon his knees, at his private devotions, till the public service began. But if he was forced to be satisfied with a more public seat, and there were company about him, he shortened his private prayers, that he might not be taken notice of; for he avoided being singular and remarkable in all his actions, much more in those of religion; in them he aimed at something greater than fame, more lasting and substantial than the vain applause of men ; even those praises which are endless, and that honour which never can decay.

But his opinion of the secrecy of religious actions, and his practice too, the reader will best learn from himself, in the two following meditations; which are still farther instances of his humility, and his great watchfulness against whatever had the least tendency to vanity.

"My right hand," says he, " is the grace of God: my left, my spiritual friend. In acts of devotion, fasting and charity, I am to be exceeding nice, how I let one of these know what the other enables me to do. To sound a trumpet, and tell all the world what you do, is certainly a mark of a dissolute and unspiritual mind, not ambitious of heavenly rewards, nor sensible of spiritual pleasures. To reveal these only to a spiritual friend, may perhaps in some cases be necessary; but if you would be perfect, subject them only to the eyes of God; he will be your sufficient counsellor. For the advantages you may reap by revealing them to men, in any prudent instructions or

encouragements, will not countervail the hazard you undergo of self-complacency, in the opinion another may have in your being devout, mortified, or charitable, and of losing your comfort; the greatest encouragement you have to persist in those charming duties, which wholly, lose their sweetness, when you, in any measure, sink into flesh and blood; your comfort, I say, which wholly consists in acquitting yourself in secret, to your heavenly Father, and approving yourself to him."

The other meditation is as follows:

"We lose," says he, "something of spiritual strength, (as Samson did,) by discovering secret transactions between God and our souls; for this gives our conscience a damp, since it tends to magnify ourselves, and looks like boasting of secret favours, which is a means of lessening favours among men. If what I speak of this sort tends to magnify myself, as being a favourite of God, I cannot be too jealous of myself because our hearts are deceitful, and very treacherous; and something of secret pride will be apt to steal in upon us, in such relations. If I tell of raptures and elevations vouchsafed to me in prayer; of ardent desires after the holy communion, and longings for heaven, and the like; I must be well made indeed, and strongly armed with the grace of God within me, if I do all this only for the edification of my neighbour, and to provoke him to praise God on my behalf, without any by-design to recommend myself to his esteem."

It is now time to consider Mr. Bonnell, with respect to other virtues besides humility: I shall, there

fore, conclude this part of his character with the following prayer:

"While I walk the streets, let not my head seem full of business; but what I delight in, and desire always: let head and heart be full of my Saviour. Take from me, O my God, a haughty gait, a proud look, and supercilious forehead. I consider how my Redeemer walked the streets of Jerusalem, how modestly and plainly he was apparelled, how little he coveted to make a figure, how little to see, or be seen, how meek and humble his behaviour was, how far from striving or quarrelling, or lifting up his voice in the streets. Let my deportment, O my God, be such as if I walked with thee then, for thou dost vouchsafe to walk with me now."

:

ness.

One so humble as Mr. Bonnell was, could His meekhardly fail to be meek and patient; and such he was in a very high degree. Those who conversed with him saw a spirit of meekness and gentleness in his words, and actions, and behaviour and it could hardly be otherwise, but that he who was so lowly in his own eyes, must receive injuries from men, with great meekness; and corrections from God, with submission and patience. For he very justly esteemed pride the parent of most of our disorders, particularly of anger, impatience, and revenge. To this purpose he expresses himself in the following meditation.

"I have a notion, that the sting of all affliction is pride; it is this gives a pungency to every grievance, and makes it pierce our heart. Others bruise, but do not wound us; they sit heavy on us without, but do

11