an instrument, in the hand of God, of leading me into an acquaintance with the truth, as it is in Jesus. This kind friend often visited me; and in conversing with him, I found my heart lightened of its burden; I could better bear the pitiless storm, that beat upon me, when strengthened by the example of this son of sorrow; we frequently conversed upon the things of the kingdom, and Mr. Relly, observing my heart much warmed and enlarged by these subjects, urged me to go forth, and make mention of the loving-kindness of God. No, no, I constantly replied, it is not my design again to step forth in a public character. I have been a promulgator of falsehood. "And why not," he would interrupt, "a promulgator of truth? Surely you owe this atonement to the God, who hath irradiated your understanding by the light of his countenance." But no argument, he made use of, was sufficiently strong to excite in my bosom a single wish, that I had either inclination or capability, for a character so arduous; my heart's desire was to pass, through life, unheard, unseen, unknown to all, as though I ne'er had been. I had an aversion to society, and, since I could not be permitted to leave the world, I was solicitous to retire from its noise and its nonsense; I was indeed a burden to myself, and no advantage to any body else; every place, every thing served to render me more miserable, for they led my mind to the contemplation of past scenes, of scenes never more to return. Such was the situation of my mind, when, at the house of one of Mr. Relly's hearers, I accidentally met a gentleman from America. I listened with attention to his account of the country, in which he had so long resided; I was charmed with his description of its extent, its forests, its lakes, its rivers, its towns, its inhabitants, the liberty they enjoyed, and the peace and plenty, which they possessed; I listened to every thing with astonishment; and I turned toward the new world my most ardent wishes. I communicated my desire to visit America to my mother, to my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertaining a project so chimerical. What, cross the Atlantic! For what purpose? To whom would I go? What could I do? What object could I have in view? I was unable to answer any of these questions; I had not a single acquaintance in America, indeed I had no wish to make acquaintance; I had nothing in prospect, but a kind of negative happiness; I did not mean to commence a voyage in pursuit of bliss, but to avoid, if possible, a part of my misery.
My mind for a considerable time laboured with my purpose; many difficulties interposed; I would infinitely have preferred entering that narrow house, which is appointed for all living, but this I was not per-
