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the account of faith and works; perhaps we never shall. One thing I know, that whatever difference there is between us, if any, I do not love and esteem you the less for it, and verily believe you are pressing to the mark with singleness of heart. However, you shall hear something of my sentiments once
I told you, in my last, that I am frightened at my own works; and I tell you again, that in all my life I never was more sincere than in that declaration. I thank God that I see something of my short comings, which I will venture to say is some degree of illumination. If we are in earnest with the law and the heart, we shall certainly discover great defect; and this opens all scripture to us, throws us directly upon Christ, the glory and end of it, and sole relief of a world of sinners. When the matter, manner, principle, quality, and quantity, of the very best things we do, are weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, conscience is alarmed, starts back affrighted (I use the word again) from the thought of making God a debtor, and can have no ease, but in crying out, Miserere! have pity on me, O Lord! For instance, suppose you had ten pounds put into your hands to give to the poor, and you gave nine, it would look great in the eye of the world ; but the horrid villany of secreting the twenty shillings is inexpressible; and yet so the account stands between God and man, not only in our giving less than we are intrusted with, but in regard of all duty.
· My dear sir, you will now retract some expressions in your letters, as if I was somebody. I give you this caution, lest in ascribing more to man, or. human attainments than belongs to them, you should be induced to think more highly of them, and of yourself, than you ought; and to reject, at least in part, the gospel remedy, and the comfort which comes with it. If you should set down my disclaiming the character you so liberally bestow upon me for counterfeit humility, I will not contradict you.
“I shall be exceeding glad to hear that your health is better. My case puzzles all I have consulted. A frequent and painful return of strangury, or dysury,-I know not what to call it, nor from what cause it proceeds,-returns periodically, once a month, and always continues the same number of days-about ten. In the intervals, I am as well as can be expected at seventy-two. I need not tell you that pain comes for purification and punishment; one I am sure I deserve, and have great cause to lament the slowness and imperfection of the other. I
may live to see you here, with Mrs. Pownall, which will be a singular favour, and give great pleasure to, dear sir,
-“Your very affectionate
5. THOMAS ADAM.
“P.S. Election riots run high at Hull. told that Sir J. Saville, and his candidate Mr. Heartley, saved themselves over the tops of the houses.
" THOMAS ADAM.”
There is a circumstance connected with the baronet mentioned in the postscript of the above letter,
which may not be unacceptable to the reader; since it tends to show how intent Mr. Adam was to embrace opportunities of being useful to others. The editor's mother mentioned to him the anecdote. Sir George Saville, who frequently sailed in his yacht on the Humber, was on one occasion driven into Wintringham haven, after being nearly shipwrecked, during a violent storm which had suddenly overtaken him and his companions. Sir George and his friends, instead of seeking an inn, went to the rectory. Mr. Adam accommodated the relative of his patron, and his friends. In the evening Mr. Adam remarked to Sir George, that since he and his friends were distressed mariners, who had been driven on his coast by stress of weather, he should treat them as his parishioners, and a part of his family : they would therefore be summoned to family-prayer at eight o'clock. Sir George and his companions bowed assent; and on leaving the parsonage on return of the tide the next morning, expressed their gratification with the frank hospitality, and primitive simplicity, of the worthy rector of Wintringham.
The following letter carries us nearly a year further in the Memoir of Mr. Adam, and shows us, very pleasingly, his playfuluess and cheerful piety at his advanced age.
TO COLONEL POWNALL.
“Wintringham, August 24th, 1775. My dear Sir, “I had long reproached myself for not answering your letter, and did not want another to bring my
sin to remembrance. The truth is, my hand shakes so, especially in summer, that I cannot write ten lines without difficulty ; but waving that, or any other half-apology, give me leave to tell you at once, that there is no one whom I esteem and love, or more desire to see, than Colonel Pownall. My heart went pit-a-pat at the opening of your
letter. I did not forget that you mentioned to me your intention of being at Lincoln this summer with Mrs. Pownall, and I could not help hoping and wishing that it might bring me tidings of your intention of coming a day's journey more northward.
“ When and where we shall meet, God knows; I trust in heaven, to rejoice together for ever.
“As you say nothing of your complaint, I hope you are free from it. My wish for you is, that you may not have a wish for yourself, but in conjunction with the sovereign will of God. May you be carried, with full consent, on the wheel of divine providence, and submit cheerfully and thankfully to the appointments of the day. Resolve to be as happy as you can ; and in order to that, take heed how you raise your expectations too high, from time and the creature. As to myself, I have a constant monthly return of a troublesome, inexplicable disorder, without hope of remedy. I know all is for the best, and would leave the choice where it should be, whether the knot of life is to be cut, or gently untied.
Indeed, sense, memory, intellect, at the age seventy-three, are waning apace, and, I believe, I flatter myself in thinking that I am only half dead. Whilst I live, I am, and shall be,
“Your very affectionate
“ THOMAS ADAM."
In the autumn of the next year, he writes as follows:
TO COLONEL POWNALL.
“Wintringham, October 18th, 1776. « Dear Sir, “I more than flattered myself you would not do the work I put into your hands by halves. Please to present my respectful compliments to the parties assisting, to whom, with yourself, I am much obliged ; and as I have no other return in my power, I hope you will be content with a prayer for the abounding of you all in good works, self-renun ciation, and trust in the Saviour. In my seventyfifth
year, with a retrospect melancholy enough, I have nothing but the last to place my confidence in, or wherein to face death, and in that I do and will rejoice. Luther's Commentary on the Galatians' has long been my pole-star, and I can easily excuse his positive manner, and spirited expression, for the truth and substance of his doctrine. “I
I suppose you have seen Jenyns on the Internal Evidence.' Just emerging out of darkness, and broke loose from a sceptical turn of mind, he does not see everything at once, or not in the light that I do: but, upon the whole, he writes with great sensibility, as well as the ease of a gentleman ; and I persuade myself that his performance will put some upon reading the Bible, who at present are strangers to it, and some, who think they are not, upon looking into it more narrowly. I cannot help congratulating you on your quiet retirement in North Street, instead of an American campaign,