Being naturally of warm feelings, and of an affectionate disposition, this opposition to his ministerial labours sensibly affected my father's health and spirits. His rector also refused to pay his stipulated salary, consisting of the moderate sum of 30l. per annum for each parish; several quarters of which were in arrear, when he received the subjoined testimony of affectionate regard :

"WORTHY SIR,

-

"As you suffer, or expect to suffer some disadvantage from Mr.'s conduct towards you, I lend you the enclosed (if you will please to accept it) as a small temporary help to counterbalance the loss. You are not to give me any interest for it, nor any security, that I or mine may not have power to press upon you or yours. I beg you will not return it till it is quite easy for you to do so; and if that should never be, I shall consider your services as having been worthy (from the inhabitants at large, or from some other quarter) of four times the sum.

"I am sorry, Sir, you are so poorly and dejected; but what says David? Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me; hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him.' That this may be your happiness; and that your health restored, is the prayer and hope of, Sir,

may soon be

"Your humble servant,

"JAMES SCAMMELL."*

Imber, Nov. 12, 1798.

About this period my father experienced a providential escape from death. The indisposition noticed

* On referring to my father's memoranda, I find that his rector's account with him was never finally adjusted. At the date, Sept. 1, 1807, is the following entry :-"Sent Mr. James Scammell, of Imber, twenty-five pounds, a sum he lent me, when resident at Tilshead, on condition of my returning it without interest, if it should be ever convenient to me. (Mr. Scammell's letter, in which he enclosed and offered me this loan, is somewhere among my letters.)"

above, continued to be felt for some time; in consequence of which he consulted Dr. Fowler, an eminent physician at Salisbury, who prescribed for him. The person who was employed to compound the medicine, from ignorance or carelessness, erroneously made up the prescription, and the mistake placed my father's life in the most imminent danger. Instead of that which had been ordered, the chemist's lad substituted digitalis. This powerful drug was accordingly taken in doses of alarming magnitude, which were repeated until the patient was reduced to the lowest extremity of weakness. As soon as the blunder which had been committed was discovered by the honest quaker, at whose shop the medicine had been compounded, he set out in the greatest alarm and precipitation to the vicarage at Tilshead, where he arrived after a hurried ride, almost breathless with anxiety. His eager inquiry-"Is parson Gauntlett alive?"-being answered in the affirmative, he expressed his gratitude, and hastened to pour away the remainder of the deadly mixture.*

Dr. Fowler, in writing to congratulate my father

• Digitalis was substituted for una ursi, which was prescribed in conjunction with another very simple medicine, in doses of thirty grains, to be taken three times a day. Of this combination, by the carelessness of the compounder, three-fifths consisted of digitalis: consequently eighteen grains were taken at a dose, and persisted in at regular intervals, twice on the first day, three times on the second, and again twice on the day following. On this calculation 126 grains of this powerful medicine were taken in little more than forty-eight hours. This estimate is made from a reference to the prescription of Dr. Fowler, and repeated statements of its correctness made by my father to his family and others. In administering this medicine, few medical men, as the writer is informed, would venture to employ a larger dose than from one to two grains.

on what he calls his " very fortunate escape," styles the mistake the most formidable and reprehensible one he ever knew committed."

The subject of our memoir, in the year 1800, married Arabella Jenkinson, daughter of the Rev. Edward Davies, rector of Coychurch, in Glamorganshire. Mr. Davies resided one half of the year in Wales, and spent the remainder of his time in Bristol, occasionally (as long as his health and strength permitted) assisting his brethren in the ministry in that city. He had previously been very useful at Bath Easton; particularly in the introduction and management of Sunday-schools, on an extensive and successful plan. At an earlier period of his ministry he served the churches of St. Dunstan's in the East, and St. Margaret Pattens; and he was contemporary, and well acquainted with Mr. Romaine, Mr. Newton, and other well-known and esteemed clergymen of the day. Mr. Davies returned to London in the year 1811, where he finished his course with joy, and entered into rest, on the 8th of March, 1812, at the advanced age of seventy-seven years. Miss Davies was the only surviving daughter of his second wife, whose maiden name was Jenkinson; and whose mother was the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Deane, rector of a parish in Gloucestershire. Miss Arabella Jenkinson, by her marriage with Mr. Davies, entered at an early age into the important situation of mother to a large family, the duties of which she fulfilled with tender affection. She possessed superior talents, which were sanctified and directed by ardent piety.

Mrs. Davies died, in 1787, in giving birth to an infant, which was buried in the same grave with herself; having just completed her thirty-fourth year. Her diary was afterwards printed from her own manuscript, together with a brief memoir by her husband. An account of her exemplary life and peaceful death, has also been inserted in the third volume of Memoirs of Pious Women." Her Letters to her children, which were published as a separate work, indicate her affectionate solicitude for the welfare of those whom Providence had committed to her charge. The two last letters in this little volume (which has long been out of print) were addressed to the eldest child of her own family, who was then in the twelfth year of her age, and had lately been placed at school. The insertion of one of them may not be displeasing to the reader; as the young person, to whom it was addressed, subsequently became the wife of the subject of this memoir.

"From the precarious state of my health, and perceiving, from symptoms, that my disorder gains the advantage of my constitution, I am led to the solemn reflection, that Death (I would hope my friendly messenger) will soon close all mortal scenes, and deprive my dear, dear Bella of an affectionate parent. With sincerity my heart loves you: all the parental feelings of a mother now look at you though absent, and seem to dread the parting look, when all my counsel and my care, prayers and entreaties, shall be over. I would, therefore, now snatch the moment lent by an indulgent Providence, to warn, admonish, reprove, and encourage my dear child, that she may not, through the deceitfulness of her own heart, and the power of the enemy, stifle the dictates of conscience, and, instead of seeking the Lord now in the days of her youth, put off the important con

cern till a more convenient season. Dread delay (an awful hazard!) as your breath is in your nostrils, and in one moment your eternal state may be fixed in utter darkness.

"My dear love, let me reason with you. Are you desirous of being happy? I know your reply, for we all naturally hate misery. Believe the written word, that the way of a christian is like the dawning light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day. How extremely beautiful is this allusion! When morning light breaks through the midnight gloom, its rays are at first extremely faint, and we see things darkly and uncomfortably; but the sun advances, and in a short time the mid-day shines on us, and to our view displays all the glories of the beautiful creation.

"Thus the soul, sincerely seeking Jesus, or, in the language of scripture, hungering and thirsting after righteousness, though at present he doth not see what the Father in Christ doth, yet follows on, and the day dawns more and more.

"If you have, my dear, a desire to entertain him as your best friend, rest not there, but be anxious, restless, and importunate, till you have some hope that you are brought out of Egypt, the city of destruction, with your face Zion-ward! And should the Sun of righteousness, the Lord Jesus, not yet rise on your languid soul, O fear not! Has he made you sensible, through his Spirit, that you are a sinner, that his holy law condemns you as guilty, and you dread his almighty power and denunciation, 'Depart, depart, I know thee not!' I repeat it, fear not! He will not break the bruised 'Come unto me, all ye that

reed, nor quench the smoking flax.' are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' And though he yet delay, wait on the Lord: the waiting soul shall never be disappointed-waiting seasons are generally blessed afterwards with a steadier faith.

"The Lord hath said, 'Those that trust in the Lord, or believe in Jesus, shall not be confounded;' but has nowhere left on record that it shall be instantly. David, the highly-favoured of the Lord, is often telling us 'he waited, yea, he waited patiently,' and was heard to the strengthening of his faith, and the increase of his love. Neither let thy corruptions, thy sicknesses, or distresses, make thee, my love, despond."