Examined the willows she planted on the island. Oh! that they were thriving oaks that promised a longer duration, but they may last as long as anybody that will care for the planter. Continue to read Scripture, and some of Secker’s[[174]] and Ogden’s[[175]] sermons, and again began ‘Bryant on Christianity.’ I pray to God with all the fervency I feel to give me the grace of His Holy Spirit, that I may turn this loss to the benefit of my soul. Dr. Jortin, in his seventeenth sermon, most truly says, ‘It is adversity which seizes upon the future as prosperity dwells upon the present.’[present.’] On the 25th I read Littleton’s[[176]] ‘Conversion and Apostleship of St. Paul.’ I had brought down from London a new political pamphlet of Howlett’s on a subject that was once interesting, but I can attend to nothing except inquiries which in some degree connect with that habit of mind which flows from my recent loss.
Mrs. —— called to persuade me into company for regaining cheerfulness. Alas! it will come, I fear, much too soon, and what is it good for? Sorrow is the best physician to heal a soul that has been too careless in its duty to God.
Will the world, and pleasure, and society contribute like grief to secure me a probability of joining in another world the spirit of her I mourn?
26th.—I read part of Dr. Clarke’s[[177]] ‘Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God,’ as much as I could understand without too intense an application, and then part of ‘Butler’s Analogy.’ Prayed to the Almighty in the middle of the day. The morning is the proper time, but when we are tired and sleepy, the evening I think an improper period to offer either thanksgiving or petitions to the Divine goodness.
Why, oh! why must we have misfortune and sorrow to make us sensible of our duty to our heavenly Father and our Saviour and Redeemer? How difficult to instil a right attention into young people.
I am, however, thankful that my dear child was naturally serious and, I believe, well disposed in this respect; with what joy I now read the following passage in a letter I received from her while she was ill at Bradfield before I came down: ‘My dear papa, how can you imagine that I should ever neglect my prayers? No! believe me, I know my duty too well for that.’
What now would be the idea of any improvement or accomplishment compared with the least trait like this?
27th.—Called for a few minutes on some neighbours. They all want me to dine with them, but such society to a mind diseased yields no food for reflection, and is, therefore, not fit for me. I could associate with nobody with comfort, but those whose religious acquirements could tend to strengthen my present habits.
I continue to read Butler, also two sermons by Conybeare[[178]] on angels; looked at the miniature which my wife has of the dear girl, a most striking likeness by Plymer;[[179]] wept over it with feelings easier imagined than described. I will have a copy of it; ’twill serve, at least, as a melancholy remembrance, and, I hope, recall my mind should it ever wander from the lamented original.
28th.—Finished Butler’s ‘Analogy.’ It does not quite answer the idea I had formed of him, though a powerful work; but he demands a second perusal, but does not even then promise to be perfectly clear. Read also Mr. Locke’s ‘Reasonableness of Christianity,’ which is a luminous convincing work, and must have done great good. Watered dear Bobbin’s garden and read over her letters. She had, for her early years, a most uncommon understanding and a penetration into character wonderful for the age of fourteen. On reviewing her last illness I am filled with nothing but the most poignant regret and self-condemnation for putting so much reliance in the medical tribe, for she had the personal attendance or correspondence of five physicians and none agreed. I did for the best and spared nothing, but had she been a pauper in a village she would, I verily think, have been alive and hearty. Such are the blessings of money; it has cost me 100l. to destroy my child, for I do not think one shilling was bestowed which did not in one way or other do mischief.