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I shall have an opportunity of illustrating this in the most convincing manner below, by extracts from several letters which he wrote to intimate friends during this happy period of time--letters which breathe a spirit of such sublime and fervent piety as I have seldom met with any where else. In these circumstances, it is no wonder that he was greatly delighted with Dr. Watts's imitation of the 126th Psalm, since it may be questioned whether there ever was a person to whom the following stanzas of it were more suitable:--

When God revealed his gracious name, And changed my mournful state, My rapture seemed a pleasing dream, Thy grace appeared so great.

The world beheld the glorious change, And did thine hand confess; My tongue broke out in unknown strains, And sung surprising grace.

"Great is the work," my neighbours cried, And owned the power divine: "Great is the work," my heart replied, "And be the glory thine."

The Lord can change the darkest skies, Can give us day for night, Make drops of sacred sorrow rise, To rivers of delight.

Let those that sow in sadness, wait Till the fair harvest come! They shall confess their sheaves are great, And shout the blessings home.

I have been so happy as to get the sight of five original letters which he wrote to his mother about this time, which do, in a lively manner, illustrate the surprising change made in the whole current of his thoughts and temper of his mind. Many of them were written in the most hasty manner, just as the courier who brought them was perhaps unexpectedly setting out, and they relate chiefly to affairs in which the public is not at all concerned; yet there is not one of them in which he has not inserted some warm and genuine sentiment of religion. Indeed it is very remarkable, that though he was pleased to honour me with a great many letters, and I have seen several more which he wrote to others, some of them on journeys, where he could have but a few minutes at command, yet I cannot recollect that I ever saw any one in which there was not some trace of piety; and the Rev. Mr. Webster, who was employed to review great numbers of them, that he might select such extracts as he should think proper to communicate to me, has made the same observation.

The major, with great justice, tells the good lady his mother, "that when she saw him again she would find the person indeed the same, but every thing else entirely changed." And she might easily have perceived it of herself by the whole tenor of these letters, which every where breathe the unaffected spirit of a true Christian. They are taken up sometimes with giving advice and directions concerning some pious and charitable contributions, one of which, I remember, amounted to ten guineas, though as he was then out of commission, and had not formerly been very frugal, it cannot be supposed he had much to spare; sometimes in speaking of the pleasure with which he attended sermons, and expected sacramental opportunities; and at other times in exhorting her, established as she was in religion, to labour after a yet more exemplary character and conduct, or in recommending her to the divine presence and blessing, as well as himself to her prayers. What satisfaction such letters as these must give to a lady of her distinguished piety, who had so long wept over this dear and amiable son as quite lost to God, and on the verge of final destruction, it is not for me to describe, nor indeed to conceive. But hastily as these letters were written, only for private view, I will give a few specimens from them in his own words, which will serve to illustrate as well as confirm what I have hinted above.

"I must take the liberty," says he, in a letter dated on the first day of the new year, or, according to the old style, Dec. 21, 1719, "to entreat you that you would receive no company on the Lord's day. I know you have a great many good acquaintance, with whose discourses one might be very well edified; but as you cannot keep out and let in whom you please, the best way, in my humble opinion, will be to see none." In another, of Jan. 25, "I am happier than any one can imagine, except I could put him exactly in the same situation with myself; which is what the world cannot give, and no man ever attained it, unless it were from above." In another, dated March 30, which was just before a sacrament day, "To-morrow, if it please God, I shall be happy, my soul being to be fed with the bread of life which came down from heaven. I shall be mindful of you all there." In another of Jan. 29, he thus expresses that indifference for worldly possessions which he so remarkably carried through the remainder of his life: "I know the rich are only stewards for the poor, and must give an account of every penny; therefore, the less I have, the more easy will it be to give an account of it." And to add no more from these letters at present, in the conclusion of one of them he has these comprehensive and solemn words: "Now that He, who is the ease of the afflicted, the support of the weak, the wealth of the poor, the teacher of the ignorant, the anchor of the fearful, and the infinite reward of all faithful souls, may pour out upon you all his richest blessings, shall always be the prayer of him who is entirely yours," &c.

To this account of his correspondence with his excellent mother, I should be glad to add a large view of another, to which she introduced him, with that reverend and valuable person under whose pastoral care she was placed--I mean the justly celebrated Doctor Edmund Calamy, to whom she could not but early communicate the joyful news of her son's conversion. I am not so happy as to be possessed of the letters which passed between them, which I have reason to believe would make a curious and valuable collection; but I have had the pleasure of receiving from my worthy and amiable friend, the Rev. Mr. Edmund Calamy, one of the letters the doctor, his father, wrote to the major on this wonderful occasion. I perceive by the contents of it that it was the first, and, indeed, it is dated as early as the 3d of August, 1719, which must be but a few days after his own account, dated August 4, N.S., could reach England. There is so much true religion and good sense in this paper, and the counsel it suggests may be so reasonable to other persons in circumstances which bear any resemblance to his, that I make no apology to my reader for inserting a large extract from it.

"Dear Sir,--I conceive it will not much surprise you to understand that your good mother communicated to me your letter to her, dated August 4, N.S., which brought her the news you conceive would be so acceptable to her. I, who have often been a witness to her concern for you on a spiritual account, can attest with what joy this news was received by her, and imparted to me as a special friend, who she knew would bear a part with her on such an occasion. And, indeed, if there is, is such cases, joy in heaven and among the angels of God, it may be well supposed that of a pious mother who has spent so many prayers and tears upon you, and has, as it were, travailed in birth with you again till Christ was formed in you, could not be small. You may believe me if I add, that I also, as a common friend of hers and yours, and which is much more, of the Prince of Light, whom you now declare you heartily fall in with in opposition to that of the dark kingdom, could not but be tenderly affected with an account of it under your own hand. My joy on this account was the greater, considering the importance of your capacity, interests, and prospects, which, in such an age as this, may promise most happy consequences, on your heartily appearing on God's side, and embarking in the interest of our Redeemer. If I have hitherto at all remembered you at the throne of grace, at your good mother's desire, I can assure you I shall henceforth be led to do it, with more concern and particularity both by duty and inclination; and if I were capable of giving you any little assistance in the noble design you are engaging in, by corresponding with you by letter while you are at such a distance, I should do it most cheerfully. And perhaps such a motion may not, be altogether unacceptable; for I am inclinable to believe, that when some whom you are obliged to converse with, observe your behaviour so different from what it formerly was, and banter you upon it as mad and fanciful, it may be some little relief to correspond with one who will take a pleasure in heartening and encouraging you. And when a great many things frequently offer, in which conscience may be concerned where duty may not always be plain, nor suitable persons to advise with at hand, it may be some satisfaction to you to correspond with one with whom you may use a friendly freedom in all such matters, and on whose fidelity you may depend. You may, therefore, command me in any of these respects, and I shall take a pleasure in serving you. One piece of advice I shall venture to give you, though your own good sense will make my enlarging upon it less needful--I mean, that you would, from your first setting out, carefully distinguish between the essentials of real religion, and those things which are commonly reckoned by its professors to belong to it. The want of this distinction has had very unhappy consequences from one age to another, and perhaps in none more than the present. But your daily converse with your Bible, which you mention, may herein give you great assistance. I move also, that since infidelity so much abounds, you would not only, by close and serious consideration, endeavour to settle yourself well in the fundamental principles of religion; but also that, as opportunity offers, you would converse with those books which treat most judiciously on the divine original of Christianity, such as Grotins, Abbadie, Baxter, Bates, Du Plessis, &c., which may establish you against the cavils that occur in almost all conversations, and furnish you with arguments which, when properly offered, may be of use to make some impression on others. But being too much straitened to enlarge at present, I can only add, that if your hearty falling in with serious religion should prove any hinderance to your advancement in the world, I hope you will trust our Saviour's word, that it shall be no disadvantage to you in the final issue: he has given you his word for it, Matt. xix. 29, upon which you may safely depend; and I am satisfied none that ever did so at last repented of it. May you go on and prosper, and the God of all grace and peace be with you!"

I think it very evident from the contents of this letter, that the major had not imparted to his mother the most singular circumstances attending his conversion; and indeed there was something so peculiar in them, that I do not wonder he was always cautious in speaking of them, and especially that he was at first much on the reserve. We may also naturally reflect that there seems to have been something very providential in this letter, considering the debate in which our illustrious convert was so soon engaged; for it was written but about three weeks before his conference with the lady above mentioned in the defence of Christianity, or at least before the appointment of it. And as some of the books recommended by Dr. Calamy, particularly Abbadie and Du Plessis, were undoubtedly within his reach, this might, by the divine blessing, contribute considerably towards arming him for that combat in which he came off with such happy success. As in this instance, so in many others, they who will observe the coincidence and concurrence of things, may be engaged to adore the wise conduct of Providence in events which, when taken singly and by themselves, have nothing very remarkable in them.

I think it was about this time that this resolute and exemplary Christian entered upon that methodical manner of living which he pursued through so many succeeding years of life, and I believe generally, so far as the broken state of his health would allow it in his latter days, to the very end of it. He used constantly to rise at four in the morning, and to spend his time till six in the secret exercises of devotion, reading, meditation, and prayer, in which last he contracted such a fervency of spirit as I believe few men living ever obtained. This certainly tended very much to strengthen that firm faith in God, and reverent animating sense of his presence, for which he was so eminently remarkable, and which carried him through the trials and services of life with such steadiness and with such activity; for he indeed endured and acted as always seeing Him who is invisible. If at any time he was obliged to go out before six in the morning, he rose proportionably sooner; so that when a journey or a march has required him to be on horseback by four, he would be at his devotions at furthest by two. He likewise secured time for retirement in an evening; and that he might have it the more at command, and be the more fit to use it properly, as well as be better able to rise early the next morning, he generally went to bed about ten; and, during the time I was acquainted with him, he seldom ate any supper but a mouthful of bread, with one glass of wine. In consequence of this, as well as of his admirably good constitution, and the long habit he had formed, he required less sleep than most persons I have known; and I doubt not but his uncommon progress in piety was in a great measure owing to these resolute habits of self-denial.

A life anything like this could not, to be sure, be entered upon in the midst of such company as he had been accustomed to keep, without great opposition, especially as he did not entirely withdraw himself from all the circle of cheerful conversation; but, on the contrary, gave several hours every day to it, lest religion should be reproached as having made him morose. He however, early began a practice, which to the last day of his life he retained, of reproving vice and profaneness; and was never afraid to debate the matter with any one, under the consciousness of great superiority in the goodness of his cause.

A remarkable instance of this happened, if I mistake not, about the middle of 1720, though I cannot be very exact as to the date of the story. It was, however, on his first return to make any considerable abode in England after this remarkable change. He had heard, on the other side of the water, that it was currently reported among his companions at home that he was stark mad--a report at which no reader who knows the wisdom of the world in these matters, will be much surprised, any more than himself. He concluded, therefore, that he should have many battles to fight, and was willing to dispatch the business as fast as he could. And therefore, being to spend a few days at the country-house of a person of distinguished rank, with whom he had been very intimate, he begged the favour of him that he would contrive matters so, that, a day or two after he came down, several of their former gay companions might meet at his lordship's table, that he might have an opportunity of making his apology to them, and acquainting them with the nature and reasons of his change. It was accordingly agreed to; and a pretty large company met on the day appointed, with previous notice that Major Gardiner would be there. A good deal of raillery passed at dinner, to which the major made very little answer. But when the cloth was taken away, and the servants retired, he begged their patience for a few minutes, and then plainly and seriously told them what notions he entertained of virtue and religion, and on what considerations he had absolutely determined that by the grace of God he would make it the care and business of life, whatever he might lose by it, and whatever censure and contempt he might incur. He well knew how improper it was in such company to relate the extraordinary manner in which he was awakened, which they would probably have interpreted as a demonstration of lunacy, against all the gravity and solidity of his discourse; but he contented himself with such a rational defence of a righteous, sober, and godly life, as he knew none of them could with any shadow of reason contest. He then challenged them to propose any thing they could urge, to prove that a life of irreligion and debauchery was preferable to the fear, love and worship of the eternal God, and a conduct agreeable to the precepts of his gospel. And he failed not to bear his testimony, from his own experience, that after having run the widest round of sensual pleasure, with all the advantages the best constitution and spirits could give him, he had never tasted any thing that deserved to be called happiness, till he had made religion his refuge and his delight. He testified calmly and boldly the habitual serenity and peace which he now felt in his own breast, and the composure and pleasure with which he looked forward to objects which the gayest sinner must acknowledge to be equally unavoidable and dreadful.

I know not what might be attempted by some of the company in answer to this; but I well remember that he told me that the master of the table, a person of a very frank and candid disposition, cut short the debate, and said, "Come, let us call another cause. We thought this man mad, and he is in good earnest proving that we are so." On the whole, this well-judged circumstance saved him a great deal of future trouble. When his former acquaintances observed that he was still conversible and innocently cheerful, and that he was immovable in his resolutions, they desisted from further importunity; and he has assured me, that instead of losing any one valuable friend by the change in his character, he found himself much more esteemed and regarded by many who could not persuade themselves to imitate his example.

I have not any memoirs of Colonel Gardiner's life, or of any other remarkable event befalling him in it, from the time of his return to England till his marriage in the year 1726, except the extracts which have been sent me from some letters, which he wrote to his religious friends during this interval, and which I cannot pass by without a more particular notice. It may be recollected, that in consequence of the reduction of that regiment of which he was major, he was out of commission from Nov. 10, 1718, till June 1, 1724; and, after he returned from Paris, I find all his letters during this period dated from London, where he continued in communion with the Christian society under the pastoral care of Dr. Calamy. As his good mother also belonged to the same, it is easy to imagine it must have been an unspeakable pleasure to her to have such frequent opportunities of conversing with such a son, of observing in his daily conduct and discourses the blessed effects of that change which divine grace had made in his heart, and of sitting down with him monthly at that sacred feast where Christians so frequently enjoy the divinest entertainments which they expect on this side heaven. I the rather mention this ordinance, because, as this excellent lady had a very high esteem for it, so she had an opportunity of attending it but the very Lord's day immediately preceding her death, which happened on Thursday, October 7, 1725, after her son had been removed from her almost a year. He had maintained her handsomely out of that very moderate income on which he subsisted since his regiment had been disbanded; and when she expressed her gratitude to him for it, he assured her "that he esteemed it a great honour that God put it into his power to make what he called a very small acknowledgment of all her care for him, and especially of the many prayers she had offered on his account, which had already been remarkably answered, and the benefit of which he hoped ever to enjoy."

I apprehend that the Earl of Stair's regiment, to the majority of which he was promoted on the 20th of July, 1724, was then quartered in Scotland; for all the letters in my hand, from that time to the 6th of February, 1726, are dated from thence, and particularly from Douglas, Stranraer, Hamilton, and Ayr. But I have the pleasure to find, from comparing these with others of an earlier date from London and the neighbouring parts, that neither the detriment which he must suffer by being so long out of commission, nor the hurry of affairs while charged with it, could prevent or interrupt that intercourse with Heaven, which was his daily feast, and his daily strength.

These were most eminently the happy years of his life; for he had learned to estimate his happiness, not by the increase of honour, or the possession of wealth, or by what was much dearer to his generous heart than either, the converse of the dearest and worthiest human friends; but by nearness to God, and by opportunities of humble converse with him, in the lively exercise of contemplation, praise, and prayer. Now there was no period of his life in which he was more eminently favoured with these, nor do I find any of his letters so overflowing with transports of holy joy, as those which were dated during this time. There are indeed in some of them such very sublime passages, that I have been dubious whether I should communicate them to the public or not, lest I should administer matter of profane ridicule to some, who look upon all the elevations of devotion as contemptible enthusiasm. And it has also given me some apprehensions lest it should discourage some pious Christians, who, after having spent several years in the service of God, and in humble obedience to the precepts of his gospel, may not have attained to any such heights as these. But, on the whole, I cannot satisfy myself to suppress them; not only as I number some of them, considered in a devotional view, among the most extraordinary pieces of the kind I have ever met with; but as some of the most excellent and judicious persons I any where know, to whom I have read them, have assured me that they felt their hearts in an unusual manner impressed, quickened, and edified by them.

LETTERS.

I will therefore draw back the veil, and show my much honoured friend in his most secret recesses, that the world may see what those springs were, from whence issued that clear, permanent and living stream of wisdom, piety, and virtue, which so evidently ran through all that part of his life which was open to public observation. It is not to be imagined that letters written in the intimacy of Christian friendship, some of them with the most evident marks of haste, and amidst a variety of important public cares, should be adorned with any studied elegance of expression, about which the greatness of his soul would not allow him to be at any time very solicitous, for he generally wrote as fast as his pen could move, which, happily both for him and his many friends, was very freely. Yet here the grandeur of his subject has sometimes clothed his ideas with a language more elevated than is ordinarily to be expected in an epistolary correspondence. The proud scorners who may deride sentiments and enjoyments like those which this truly great man so experimentally and pathetically describes, I pity from my heart, and grieve to think how unfit they must be for the hallelujahs of heaven, who pour contempt upon the nearest approaches to them; nor shall I think it any misfortune to share with so excellent a person their profane derision. It will be infinitely more than an equivalent for all that such ignorance and petulancy can think and say, if I may convince some, who are as yet strangers to religion, how real and how noble its delights are--if I may engage my pious readers to glorify God for so illustrious an instance of his grace--and finally, if I may quicken them, and, above all, may rouse my own too indolent spirit to follow with less unequal steps an example, to the sublimity of which, I fear, few of us shall, after all, be able fully to attain. And that we may not be too much discouraged under the deficiency, let it be recollected that few have the advantage of a temper naturally so warm; few have an equal command of retirement; and perhaps hardly any one who thinks himself most indebted to the riches and freedom of divine grace, can trace interpositions of it in all respects equally astonishing.

The first of these extraordinary letters which have fallen into my hand, is dated near three years after his conversion, and addressed to a lady of quality. I believe it is the first the major ever wrote, so immediately on the subject of his religious consolations and converse with God in devout retirement; for I well remember that he once told me he was so much afraid that something of spiritual pride should mingle itself with the relation of such kind of experiences, that he concealed them a long time; but observing with how much freedom the sacred writers open all the most secret recesses of their hearts, especially in the Psalms; his conscience began to be burdened, under an apprehension that, for the honour of God, and in order to engage the concurrent praises of some of his people, he ought to disclose them. On this he set himself to reflect who among all his numerous acquaintance seemed at once the most experienced Christians, and who the humblest. He quickly thought of the Lady Marchioness of Douglas in this view; and the reader may well imagine that it struck my mind very strongly, to think that now, more than twenty-four years after it was written, Providence should bring to my hands what I assuredly believe to be a genuine copy of that very letter, which I had not the least reason to expect I should ever have seen, when I learned from his own mouth, amidst the freedom of an accidental conversation, the occasion and circumstances of it. It is dated from London, July 21, 1722, and the very first lines of it relate to a remarkable circumstance which, from others of his letters, I find happened several times; I mean, that when he had received from any of his Christian friends a few lines which particularly affected his heart, he could not stay till the stated return of his devotional hour, but immediately retired to pray for them, and to give vent to those religious emotions of mind which such a correspondence raised. How invaluable was such a friend! and what great reason have those of us who once possessed a large share in his heart, and in those retired and sacred moments, to bless God for so singular a felicity; and to comfort ourselves in a pleasing hope that we may yet reap future blessings, as the harvest of those petitions which he can no more repeat.

His words are these:

"I was so happy as to receive yours just as I arrived, and had no sooner read it but I shut my door, and sought Him whom my soul loveth. I sought him, and found him; and would not let him go till he had blessed us all. It is impossible to find words to express what I obtained; but I suppose it was something like that which the disciples got, as they were going to Emmaus, when they said, 'Did not our hearts burn within us,' &c.; or rather like what Paul felt, when he could not tell whether he was in the body, or out of it."

He then mentions his dread of spiritual pride, from whence he earnestly prays that God may deliver and preserve him.

"This," says he, "would have hindered me from communicating these things, if I had not such an example before me as the man after God's own heart, saying, 'I will declare what God hath done for my soul;' and elsewhere, 'The humble shall hear thereof, and be glad.' Now I am well satisfied that your ladyship is of that number."

He then adds:

"I had no sooner finished this exercise," that is of prayer above mentioned, "but I sat down to admire the goodness of my God, that he would vouchsafe to influence by his free Spirit so undeserving a wretch as I, and to make me thus to mount up with eagles' wings. And here I was lost again, and got into an ocean, where I could find neither bound nor bottom; but was obliged to cry out with the apostle, 'O the breadth, the length, the depth, the height of the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge!' But if I gave way to this strain I shall never have done. That the God of hope may fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost, shall always be the prayer of him who is, with the greatest sincerity and respect, your Ladyship's," &c.

Another passage to the same purpose I find in a memorandum, which he seems to have written for his own use, dated Monday, March 11, which I perceive, from many concurrent circumstances, must have been in the year 1722-3.

"This day," says he, "having been to visit Mrs. G. at Hampstead, I came home about two, and read a sermon on these words, Psalm cxxx. 4, 'But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared;' about the latter end of which, there is a description of the miserable condition of those that are slighters of pardoning grace. From a sense of the great obligations I lie under to the Almighty God, who hath made me to differ from such, from what I was, and from the rest of my companions, I knelt down to praise his holy name; and I know not in my lifetime I ever lay lower in the dust, never having had a fuller view of my own unworthiness. I never pleaded more strongly the merits and intercession of Him who I know is worthy--never vowed more sincerely to be the Lord's, and to accept of Christ, as he is offered in the gospel, as my King, Priest, and Prophet--never had so strong a desire to depart, that I might sin no more; but 'my grace is sufficient,' curbed that desire. I never pleaded with greater fervency for the Comforter, which our blessed Lord hath promised shall abide with us for ever. For all which, I desire to ascribe glory &c. to Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb."

There are several others of his papers, speaking much the same language, which, had he kept a diary, would, I doubt not, have filled many sheets. I believe my devout readers would not soon be weary of reading extracts of this kind; but that I may not exceed in this part of my narrative, I shall mention only two more, each of them dated some years after; that is, one from Douglas, April 1, 1725; and the other from Stranraer, 25th May following.

The former of these relates to the frame of his spirit on a journey; on the mention of which, I cannot but recollect how often I have heard him say that some of the most delightful days of his life were days in which he travelled alone, when he could, especially in roads not much frequented, indulge himself in the pleasures of prayer and praise. In the exercise of this last, he was greatly assisted by several psalms and hymns which he had treasured up in his memory, and which he used not only to repeat aloud, but sometimes to sing. In reference to this, I remember the following passage, in a letter which he wrote to me many years after, when, on mentioning my ever dear and honoured friend the Rev. Dr. Watts, he says, "How often, in singing some of his psalms, hymns, or lyrics, on horseback and elsewhere, has the evil spirit been made to flee:

"'Whene'er my heart in tune was found, 'Like David's harp of solemn sound!'"

Such was the first of April above mentioned. In the evening of that day he writes thus to an intimate friend:--

"What would I have given this day, upon the road, for paper, pen, and ink, when the Spirit of the Most High rested upon me! Oh for the pen of a ready writer, and the tongue of an angel, to declare what God hath done this day for my soul! But, in short, it is in vain to attempt it. All that I am able to say, is this, that my soul has been for some hours joining with the blessed spirits above in giving glory, and honour, and praise unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever. My praises began from a renewed view of Him whom I saw pierced for my transgressions. I summoned the whole hierarchy of heaven to join with me, and I am persuaded they all echoed back praise to the Most High. Yon, one would have thought the very larks joined me with emulation. Sure, then, I need not make use of many words to persuade you, that are his saints, to join me in blessing and praising his holy name." He concludes, "May the blessing of the God of Jacob rest upon you all! Adieu. Written in great haste, late and weary."

Scarcely can I here refrain from breaking out into more copious reflections on the exquisite pleasures of true religion, when risen to such eminent degrees, which can thus feast the soul in its solitude, and refresh it on journeys, and bring down so much of heaven to earth as this delightful letter expresses. But the remark is so obvious, that I will not enlarge upon it; but proceed to the other letter above mentioned, which was written the next month, on the Tuesday after a sacrament day.

He mentions the pleasure with which he had attended a preparation sermon the Saturday before; and then he adds:

"I took a walk upon the mountains that are over against Ireland; and, I persuade myself, that were I capable of giving you a description of what passed there, you would agree that I had much better reason to remember my God from the hills of Port Patrick than David from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill of Mizar." I suppose he refers to the clearer discoveries of the gospel with which we are favoured. "In short," says he immediately afterwards, in that scripture phrase which had become so familiar to him, "I wrestled some hours with the Angel of the covenant, and made supplications to him with floods of tears, and cries--until I had almost expired; but he strengthened me so, that, like Jacob, I had power with God, and prevailed. This," adds he, "is but a very faint description; you will be more able to judge of it by what you have felt yourself upon the like occasions. After such preparatory work, I need not tell you how blessed the solemn ordinance of the Lord's supper proved to me; I hope it was so to many. You may believe I should have been exceeding glad, if my gracious Lord had ordered it so, that I might have made you a visit, as I proposed; but I am now glad it was ordered otherwise, since he hath caused so much of his goodness to pass before me. Were I to give you an account of the many favours my God hath loaded me with, since I parted from you, I must have taken up many days in nothing but writing. I hope you will join with me in praises for all the goodness he has shown to your unworthy brother in the Lord."

Such were the ardours and elevation of his soul. But while I record these memorials of them, I am very sensible that there are many who will be inclined to censure them as the flights of enthusiasm; for which reason, I must beg leave to add a remark or two on the occasion, which will be illustrated by several other extracts, which I shall introduce into the sequel of these memoirs. The one is, that he never pretends, in any of the passages cited above, or elsewhere, to have received from God any immediate revelations which should raise him above the ordinary methods of instruction, or discover any thing to him, whether of doctrines or facts. No man was further from pretending to predict future events, except from the moral prognostications of causes naturally tending to produce them, in tracing of which he had indeed an admirable sagacity, as I have seen in some very remarkable instances. Neither was he at all inclinable to govern himself by secret impulses upon his mind, leading him to things for which he could assign no reason but the impulse itself. Had he ventured, in a presumption on such secret agitations of mind, to teach or to do any thing not warranted by the dictates of sound sense and the word of God, I should readily have acknowledged him an enthusiast, unless he could have produced some other evidence than his own persuasion to have supported the authority of them. But these ardent expressions, which some may call enthusiasm, seem only to evince a heart deeply affected with a sense of the divine presence and perfections, and of that love which passeth knowledge, especially as manifested in our redemption by the Son of God, which did indeed inflame his whole soul. And he thought he might reasonably ascribe these strong impressions, to which men are generally such strangers, and of which he had long been entirely destitute, to the agency or influences of the Spirit of God upon his heart; and that, in proportion to the degree in which he felt them, he might properly say, God was present with him, and he conversed with God. Now, when we consider the scriptural phrases of "walking with God," of "having communion with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ," of "Christ's coming to them that open the door of their hearts to him, and supping with them," of "God's shedding abroad his love in the heart of the Spirit," of "his coming with Jesus Christ, and making his abode with any man that loves him," of "his meeting him that worketh righteousness," of "his making us glad by the light of his countenance," and a variety of other equivalent expressions,--I believe we shall see reason to judge much more favourably of such expressions as those now in question, than persons who, themselves strangers to elevated devotion, perhaps converse but little with their Bible, are inclined to do; especially, if they have, as many such persons have, a temper that inclines them to cavil and find fault. And I must further observe, that amidst all those freedoms with which this eminent Christian opens his devout heart to the most intimate of his friends, he still speaks with profound awe and reverence of his Heavenly Father and his Saviour, and maintains a kind of dignity in his expressions, suitable to such a subject, without any of that fond familiarity of language, and degrading meanness of phrase, by which it is, especially of late, grown fashionable among some to express their love and their humility.

On the whole, if habitual love to God, firm faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, a steady dependence on the divine promises, a full persuasion of the wisdom and goodness of all the dispensations of Providence, a high esteem for the blessings of the heavenly world, and a sincere contempt for the vanities of this, can properly be called enthusiasm, then was Colonel Gardiner indeed one of the greatest enthusiasts which our age has produced; and in proportion to the degree in which he was so, I must esteem him one of the wisest and happiest of mankind. Nor do I fear to tell the world that it is the design of my writing these memoirs, and of every thing else that I undertake in life, to spread this glorious and blessed enthusiasm, which I know to be the anticipation of heaven, as well as the most certain way to it.

But lest any should possibly imagine, that allowing the experiences which have been described above to have been ever so solid and important, yet there may be some appearances of boasting in so free a communication of them, I must add to what I have hinted in reference to this above, that I find in many of the papers before me very genuine expressions of the deepest humility and self-abasement, which indeed such holy converse with God in prayer and praise does, above all things in the world, tend to inspire and promote. Thus, in one of his letters he says, "I am but as a beast before him." In another he calls himself "a miserable hell-deserving sinner." And in another he cries out, "Oh, how good a master do I serve! but, alas, how ungrateful am I! What can be so astonishing as the love of Christ to us, unless it be the coldness of our sinful hearts towards such a Saviour?" There were many other clauses of the like nature, which I shall not set myself more particularly to trace through the variety of letters in which they occur.

It is a further instance of this unfeigned humility, that when "these divine joys and consolations were not his daily allowance," he, with equal freedom, in the confidence of Christian fellowship, acknowledges and laments it. Thus, in the first letter I had the honour of receiving from him, dated from Leicester, July 9, 1739, after mentioning the blessing with which it had pleased God to attend my last address to him, and the influence it had upon his mind, he adds, "Much do I stand in need of every help to awaken me out of that spiritual deadness which seizes me so often. Once, indeed, it was quite otherwise with me, and that for many years:

"'Firm was my health, my day was bright, And I presumed 't would ne'er be night, Fondly I said within my heart, Pleasure and peace shall ne'er depart, But I forgot, thine arm was strong, Which made my mountain stand so long; Soon as thy face began to hide, My health was gone, my comforts died.'

And here," adds he, "lies my sin and my folly."

I mention this, that the whole matter may be seen just as it was, and that other Christians may not be discouraged if they feel some abatement of that fervour, and of those holy joys which they may have experienced during some of the first months or years of their spiritual life. But, with relation to the colonel, I have great reason to believe that those which he laments as his days of spiritual deadness were not unanimated; and that quickly after the date of this letter, and especially nearer the close of his life, he had further revivings, as the joyful anticipation in reserve of those better things which were then nearly approaching. And thus Mr. Spears, in the letter I mentioned above, tells us he related the matter to him, : "However," says he, "after that happy period of sensible communion, though my joys and enlargements were not so overflowing and sensible, yet I have had habitual real communion with God from that day to this"--the latter end of the year 1743--"and I know myself, and all that know me see, that through the grace of God, to which I ascribe all, my conversation has been becoming the gospel; and let me die whenever it shall please God, or wherever it shall be, I am sure I shall go to the mansions of eternal glory," &c. This is perfectly agreeable to the manner in which he used to speak to me on this head, which we have talked over frequently and largely.

In this connection I hope my reader will forgive my inserting a little story which I received from a very worthy minister in Scotland, and which I shall give in his own words: "In this period," meaning that which followed the first seven years after his conversion, "when his complaint of comparative deadness and languor in religion began, he had a dream, which, though he had no turn at all for taking notice of dreams, yet made a very strong impression upon his mind. He imagined he saw his blessed Redeemer on earth, and that he was following him through a large field, following him whom his soul loved, but much troubled, because he thought his blessed Lord did not speak to him, till he came up to the gate of a burying-place, when, turning about, he smiled upon him in such a manner as filled his soul with the most ravishing joy, and on after reflection animated his faith in believing that whatever storms and darkness he might meet with in the way, at the hour of death his glorious Redeemer would lift up upon him the light of his life-giving countenance." My correspondent adds a circumstance for which he makes some apology, as what may seem whimsical, and yet made some impression on the colonel,--"that there was a remarkable resemblance in the field in which this brave man met his death, and that he had represented to him in the dream." I did not fully understand this at first; but a passage in that letter from Mr. Spears, which I have mentioned more than once, has cleared it:

"Now observe, sir, this seems to be a literal description of the place where this Christian hero ended his sorrows and conflicts, and from which he entered triumphantly into the joy of his Lord; for, after he fell in the battle, fighting gloriously for his king, and the cause of his God, his wounded body, while life was yet remaining, was carried from the field of battle by the east side of his own enclosure, till he came to the church-yard of Tranent, and was brought to the minister's house, where, about an hour after, he breathed out his soul into the hands of his Lord, and was conducted to his presence, where there is fulness of joy, without any cloud or interruption, for ever."

I well know that in dreams there are diverse vanities, and readily acknowledge that nothing certain could be inferred from this; yet it seems at least to show which way the imagination was working even in sleep; and I cannot think it unworthy of a wise and good man sometimes to reflect with complacency on any images which, passing through his mind even in that state, may tend either to express or to quicken his love to the great Saviour. Those eminently pious divines of the Church of England, Bishop Bull and Bishop Konn, do both intimate it as their opinion that it may be a part of the service of ministering angels to suggest devout dreams and I know that the worthy person of whom I speak was well acquainted with that evening hymn of the latter of those excellent writers which has these lines:

Nor would it be difficult to produce other passages much to the same purpose, if it would not be deemed too great a digression from our subject, and too laboured a vindication of a little incident of very small importance when compared with most of those which make up this narrative.

DOMESTIC RELATIONS.

I meet not with any other remarkable event relating to Major Gardiner, which can properly be introduced here, till 1726, when, on the 11th of July, he was married to the Right Hon. Lady Frances Erskine, daughter to the late Earl of Buchan, by whom he had thirteen children, five only of which survived their father, two sons and three daughters, whom I cannot mention without the most fervent prayers to God for them, that they may always behave worthy the honour of being descended from such parents, and that the God of their father and of their mother may make them perpetually the care of his providence, and yet more eminently happy in the constant and abundant influences of his grace.

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