the Chapel. Miss Berrington knelt down and crossed herself, and I involuntarily stood in silent awe before the crucifix and high altar, which were directly opposite to us, at the farther end of the Chapel.

I used very much to enjoy these social evenings. There was in Miss Berrington a playfulness at times and a sympathising kindliness of demeanour, without ever departing from her own centre, which made her society very delightful. She was eminently a Christian gentlewoman. Miss Lunn, full of drollery and espièglerie, had all the playfulness and pranks of a kitten, and in their society there was a certain sort of indefinite charm, which gave a constant feeling of happiness to those around them. I often asked myself in what it consisted: there was no grand outline, as in my mother; no intellectual excitement vividly to amuse; no fascination as in my cousin Christiana Gurney: they seemed like persons who went forth in love to others, without any return on self, or any desire to produce effect; and that because they had found peace, they were at liberty for a hundred little sallies of playfulness, which those who are unanchored in the deepest things have no heart for. It is only when we are no longer captives in the territories of the great enemy, that we willingly take down our harps from the willows, that our mouths are filled with laughter, and that we burst into a song.

I have often been very forcibly impressed with the vast difference in the practical results of the schools of religious training, of those who are brought up in comparative solitude, and of those who are from childhood placed in collision with others. Many eminent saints have been trained in each mode of discipline; but I think I have observed, among young persons who were members of large families, like the Gurneys of Earlham, a degree of power in the pursuit of their own plans, yet without any jostling against others; a flexibility, and amiableness, and brotherly kindness in the little affairs of daily life, which are often vainly looked for from persons, however excellent, that have been brought up much alone. Whatever examination such may have made of their own hearts, they have not had the opportunity of knowing the hearts, or of entering by close sympathy into the difficulties which beset the paths of others, differing from them perhaps in age, position, or circumstances.

I have often deeply regretted in myself the great loss I have experienced from the solitude of my early habits. We need no worse companion than our unregenerate selves, and, by living alone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorant of the means of helping his fellow-creatures, but is without the perception of those wants which most need help. Association with others, when not on so large a scale as to

make hours of retirement impossible, may be considered as furnishing to an individual a rich multiplied experience; and sympathy so drawn forth, (let it be remembered) though, unlike charity, it begins abroad, never fails to bring back rich treasures home. Association with others is useful also in strengthening the character, and in enabling us, while we never lose sight of our main object, to thread our way wisely and well. Let any person in Cheapside compare the different mode of walking of one who, from some country retreat, for the first time sets foot in the closely-thronged metropolis, with the easy disentangled walk of him who is accustomed to thread its mazes every day: the first, probably, is as intent on his business as the last, since it has stimulated him to the unwonted exertion of putting himself in a new scene; nevertheless, he is speedily bewildered by the multitudes around him; their want of sympathy sinks his spirit, their jostling retards him, and after much labour he is perhaps unable to accomplish his object; while the other, who may have a far less important end in view, is able in half the time to achieve it, and neither jostles against others, nor is once turned out of his way himself.

Not many years ago, I met a lady, eminent for talent, who was much interested in lunatic asylums. She, with her husband, a scientific man, had visited

many, both in England and on the Continent. She told me that, in all the asylums she visited, she found that the most numerous class of patients were almost always those who had been only children, and whose wills, therefore, had rarely been thwarted or disciplined in early life; whilst those who were members of large families, and who had therefore been trained in self-discipline, were far less frequently victims to this malady. However this may be, the peculiarity of what may be called a public education, in giving both flexibility and persistence of character, has often been to me very striking, and I mention it here, because I think the subject demands attention from those who are engaged either in self-education, or in that of others. Such was our

mode of life at Barr.

PART IV.

1789-1792.

"Meanwhile prophetic harps

In every grove were ringing-War shall cease;
Did ye not hear that Conquest is abjured?

Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers to deck
The tree of Liberty!

"Liberty!

I worshipped thee, and find thee but a shade!"

WORDSWORTH.

It was one evening in this summer, towards the end of July, I well remember, the glorious sun was declining behind the distant hills, and the long shadows were spreading over the woods and meadows, when we saw at a distance a vehicle (usually employed to carry servants to town or Church) returning at more than its usual speed. After some minutes the door of the drawing-room opened, and in burst Harry, William Priestley's brother, a youth of sixteen or seventeen, waving his hat, and crying out, "Hurrah! Liberty, Reason, brotherly love for ever! Down with kingcraft and priestcraft. The Majesty