resigned my office; trusting that the talents of the writer would have added to the usefulness of the publication; while I should willingly have subserved the undertaking, without being known to have had a share in the compilation. But not being able to prevail in this request, I was unwilling that the public should suffer loss, by the suppression of the valuable materials which had been put into my hands; or that the pecuniary advantage, resulting from their being committed to the press, should be transferred from the afflicted family, whose right it is, to any other person. My avocations, however, were too numerous to admit of my attempting to anticipate another publication, great part of which had evidently been prepared before-hand, consisting chiefly of a review of his works. And I should, indeed, have rejoiced to secure much more leisure, to revise and improve this narrative, than, after all this delay, I have found it possible to obtain: though my highest ambition is, like the biographer of David Brainerd, to show what manner of man my friend was, and to excite others to follow him, so far as he followed Christ.

Most of our common acquaintance are well aware, that I was his oldest and most intimate friend; and though my removal to Bristol

above twenty years, placed us at a distance from each other, yet a constant correspondence was all along maintained; and, to me at least, it seemed a tedious interval, if more than a fortnight elapsed without my receiving a letter from him.

I always considered him, and Brother Sutcliff, and myself, as more closely united to each other, than either of us were to any one else. No one, of those that grew up with me in the work of the Lord, had an higher share in my esteem than Mr. Fuller; and the task he assign, ed me at his death is some evidence, that I did not impose upon myself, in supposing I possessed a peculiar interest in his friendship. But, as I affirmed at his funeral, so I again avow my persuasion, that our intimate friendship did not blind either of us to the defects or faults of the other; but rather showed itself in the freedom of affectionate remark on whatever appeared to be wrong. 1 know but one religious subject on which there was any material difference of judgment between us,

I do not forget the ardent friendship we all bore to the excellent and amiable Pearce; but this commenced fifteen years later, and was interrupted by death fifteen years gooner, than our acquaintance with each other.

and on that point I repeatedly expressed myself more freely and strongly to him, than I did to any man in England; yet without giving him offence.

His natural temper might occasionally lead him to indulge too much severity, especially if it were provoked by the appearance of vanity or conceit. But to the modest and diffident, I never knew him otherwise than tender. He was not a man, however, to be brow-beaten and overborne, when satisfied of the goodness of his cause; nor could he be easily imposed upon by any one. In January 1815, I thought I had some occasion for urging him to take care lest he should be too much. provoked he replied, "I know something of my own temper, and thank you for all your cautions. It has some advantages and some temptations."

It has been conceived, that he was in danger of thinking too favourably of any one who appeared to embrace the whole of his religious, sentiments. It might be so. But let what he has said at the close of his fourth letter,* respecting the difference between principles and opinions, be considered. Will not this be

* See Chap. II. p. 57.

!

found a correction of such a mistake? 1 believe if he formerly verged towards an error of this kind, it was chiefly occasioned by the deep sense he had, in his own experience, of the humbling and holy tendency of his principles. Hence he might be too ready to suppose, that every one who seemed to enter thoroughly into them, would necessarily be subject to the same sanctifying influence.

Some of his friends, I am aware, have suspected, that the experience of progressive years had not greatly altered bis propensity to think the less of a man, for not entering into the minuter parts of his system. He certainly had taken a long while to settle his own judgment, on some points of very considerable importance: he should, therefore, not have forgotten, if he now walked in the midst of the paths of judgment, that a man who had wandered a little on the left side of the narrow way, might be as long in getting exactly into the proper track, as he himself had been in finding his way out of a thicket on the right hand. Yet in this respect also, I cannot forbear referring to the same passage, as expressive of genuine candour: and those who thought they had most room for complaint on this head

b

and on that point I repeatedly expressed myself more freely and strongly to him, than I did to any man in England; yet without giving him offence.

His natural temper might occasionally lead him to indulge too much severity, especially if it were provoked by the appearance of vanity or conceit. But to the modest and

1

diffident, I never knew him otherwise than tender. He was not a man, however, to be brow-beaten and overborne, when satisfied of the goodness of his canse; nor could he be easily imposed upon by any one. In January 1815, I thought I had some occasion for urging him to take care lest he should be too much provoked he replied, "I know something of my own temper, and thank you for all your cautions. It has some advantages and some temptations."

It has been conceived, that he was in danger of thinking too favourably of any one who appeared to embrace the whole of his religious sentiments. It might be so. But let what he has said at the close of his fourth letter,* respecting the difference between principles and opinions, be considered. Will not this be

See Chap. II. p. 57.