Mrs. Newton hopes Mr. T. will receive two pheasants by the mail coach to-morrow morning. This letter is directed to "Mr. Walter T-junr." MY DEAR MADAM, LETTER VII. You YOUR letter, which we received last night, did us good; we longed to hear of you, and were sometimes full of fear, but when I considered whose you are, and whom you serve, I was more easy. are in safe hands; the everlasting arms which hold the stars in their courses, are underneath you; the Lord is your shepherd and keeper, your sun and shield; why then should I fear for you? Or why should you fear for yourself? I hope you do not. Yes, madam, the Lord has done great things for us since we came home. He sent a chariot of love for dear Eliza. We almost saw her mount. Surely she was in Heaven, and Heaven in her, before she left the earth. The manner of her dismission had a merciful effect upon us, so that, though it was in one view like pulling off a limb, yet upon the whole we felt that praises were much more suitable for us than complaints. I still weep for her more or less every day, but I thank the Lord I have not dropped one tear of sorrow. My dear likewise has been wonderfully supported. By yesterday's post I sent to Mr. T. and to Mr. K. the little narrative I have printed of Eliza's translation to glory. I will send Mr. T. two or three more if I can find a conveyance. I only printed for my friends; none will be published. Just at the time I wrote it, I could not have written an account fit for the public to see, but friends will have patience to hear little particulars as they occur to mind. The Lord bless and support you through your expected trial. May you again be the joyful mother of a lively and a lovely infant. We join in best love to Mr. T. We send our love likewise to every branch and twig in both the families. In particular I thank Miss K. for her letter to B.; please to tell her that I dropped several tears upon it. I love her doubly for the kind mention she makes of Eliza. The dear child has left me deeply in debt. I feel myself under obligations to every body who looked kindly upon her, or spoke kindly to her. Judge then (if you can,) how we feel towards Mr. and Mrs. T. on her account. If I could make gold as fast as your mill makes blocks, I could not repay you, but love is better than gold. I will keep paying you in love as long as I live. I proposed leaving the remaining part of the paper for my dear to fill up, but she says her head is very poorly, and has been for some days. I hope, in her judgment, she is perfectly satisfied with the Lord's will, but her feelings have been strong, and if her health and nerves are affected for a time, I shall have still cause I hope to be thankful that she is no worse. She has had but an uncomfortable sort of head since the year 1776, when she was seized with a violent nervous disorder, which though the Lord graciously relieved her from, within about a year, she has been more apt to suffer by changes, surprizes, and cares, since that period, than before. I observe that nerves are such obstinate things that they will neither yield to reason nor to Scripture. But the promises of God are sure, whatever our feelings may be for the time, if our faith and hope be bottomed upon His good word, we shall not be disappointed in the end. Once more I commend you, and all dear to you, to the keeping of the great Shepherd, and remain, Your very affectionate and much obliged friend, 28th October, 1785. LETTER VIII. The former part of this letter was written by Mrs. Newton. MY DEAR MADAM, YESTERDAY I had a pheasant sent me: it immediately occurred to me, "Perhaps dear Mrs. T. could eat a bit." The fear of being too late for the coach made me do it up in great haste, with a line. My dear B. had just finished me a shawl, which I thought very pretty, and as you were about leaving your chamber, hoped you would not be angry if I begged your acceptance of it, as it is very warm, and B. is quite willing to do me another, and is glad I thought of it. We have thought and talked of you, and dear Mr. T.'s kindness to us, I believe, every day since we had the pleasure of being with you, and we should be glad to hear from or of you as often as convenient. I have not been very well since we left S., but am not quite confined to the house. I wish I could tell you that I am much humbled and thankful, and felt as I ought, but I must not begin, for fear I should not know how to leave off, as your spirits are weak, and mine are not strong. (Continued by Mr. Newton.) I am sure I am My dear says I must write a bit. willing, but am generally a little lazy on Sunday evenings, and to-day I have preached three times ; but I expect to be very busy to-morrow, and therefore while I am smoking my pipe before supper, I take up my pen to you. Ah, madam, I could not have known you and Mr. T. without loving you, though I had never visited you at S. but your great kindness to us, standing in connexion with sweet Eliza's sickness and death, and the comfortable entertainment she had under your hospitable roof, has bound my heart to you in a peculiar manner. Had she lived and recovered to be quite well, I hope I should not have been ungrateful; but I seem to feel it more sensibly because she is gone. I hope the Lord has graciously comforted you in your confinement, and that you are growing strong every day, and will soon be restored to your family, and to the house of the Lord. May the Lord grant my dear friends as much comfort in all your children, as we had in sweet Eliza, and if it please Him, without the abatement of sickness or the pain of an early separation. But why do I say pain? If I must call it pain, (and surely I felt it) I must likewise say, it was a delightful, desirable pain, preferable to all the pleasures such a world as this can afford. I little doubt but you who are real parents, could part with your children without reluctance, upon the same terms. Oh! it was wonderful! I could not complain if I would, making myself, my partial self, judge in my own cause. I was constrained to confess that no one circumstance in my whole life called for a larger return of gratitude and praise than the removal of this dear girl, notwithstanding that, if it had been the Lord's will to restore her to health, I should have rejoiced more in her recovery than in the possession of the best estate in Hampshire. I knew that I loved her dearly, but how dearly I never knew, till about the last week of her life. I am most perfectly satisfied, and have not had the most distant wish for a moment since she died, that the event had been otherwise. I love to talk of her, and every day more or less I still drop some tears over her memory: perhaps this is a weakness, I hope it is not a sin. I do not find it gives me any uneasiness. She is almost continually in my thoughts, but so, as rather to draw forth my thankfulness to the Lord than otherwise, that she is where she is. I hope the thought of her helps me sometimes in prayer, often in preaching, and gives me such a confirmation of the great truths I speak of as I would not be without. Yet C |