In a letter to his second son, then on a visit to Europe, he writes, under date of March 5, 1840:
"We are all curious to know what impressions your visit to France and Italy produces, and still more what impressions a careful overlooking of our fatherland makes upon you. There is much food for reflection, and abundant material for the exercise of your powers of observation, in every league of the 'fast-anchored isle,' especially in the scenes so beautifully portrayed in many of the books we have access to. In fact, I have an extensive collection of materials to renew your travels and observations, and shall value them more highly when you point out this or that seat or castle or abbey, which has arrested your notice. But the best scenes will be those in which the living souls of the present day are engaged. The habits and tastes of the people of England have doubtless much changed since the Spectator days; but, in many important particulars, I should hope they had not. Some thirty years ago, I had a good specimen of the feelings and principles of a great variety of people, embracing almost all classes, from the year 1774 to 1776, in a multitude of letters that had accumulated in the post-office in this town, under Tuthill Hubbart. After his death, his house was pulled down; and, among the strange things found in it, were bushels of letters, of which I was permitted to take what I pleased. These letters showed a deeper religious feeling in the writers of those days, from England, Ireland, and Scotland, than I have seen in any miscellaneous collections of a later date. If that deep-toned piety which pervaded them has not been extinguished by the Jacobinism and freethinking of later days, happy for the people and the government! But I fear it has, in some great measure, been blotted out or obscured, as there seems to be a spirit of reckless adventure in politics and religion not contemplated seventy years ago. How far our experience in self-government in this country is going to advance the cause of good government, and the ultimate happiness of man, is yet a problem. Our principles are of the most elevating character; our practices under them, of the most debasing; and, if we continue in this way another generation, there will not be virtue enough in active use to save the forms of our government. We may hope that a better heart may be given us."
In a letter to his son-in-law, the Rev. Charles Mason, who was at that time in company with his own son on a visit to England, he writes on June 28th, 1840:
"I intended to defer writing until to-morrow morning; but the beauty of the western scenery and sunset is so striking, that I am strongly impelled to tell you that, much as you see, and highly as you enjoy the scenes of old England, there is nothing there more beautiful and sublime than this very scene from my chamber windows. It seems as though nature never was so beautifully dressed at this time of the year as at present. The season has been unusually favorable for the foliage, fruits, and flowers; and all around bears evidence of that goodness that never rests, and in my own person I feel that I am enjoying in a month what ought to content me for a year."
The foregoing extract is selected from among many others of a similar nature, as an illustration of Mr. Lawrence's appreciation of the beauties of natural scenery.
Towards the close of the day, his favorite seat was at a window, from which he could witness the glories of the setting sun, and, still later, the fading beauties of the twilight. Nature to him was no sealed volume; and with her, in all her phases, he loved to commune.
The gorgeous hues of the western sky, the changing tints of the autumnal foliage, and the smiling features of the landscape, were in his mind typical of the more resplendent beauties of the future world. He writes:
"To-day is one of those holy spring days which make us feel that, with right principles and conduct, we may enjoy a foretaste of that beautiful home we all long for. I have been over the Roxbury and Dorchester hills, which are a transcript of the beautiful scenery around Jerusalem. Mount Zion seemed before me, and by stretching my arms, I could almost fly upon its sides."
He loved to think that the spirits of the departed may be permitted to hover around, and minister to those whom they have once loved on earth; and sometimes, as he viewed nature in her softer moods, he would imagine himself as holding communion with former cherished objects of affection. He writes to a friend: