originated from mistaken and superstitious views of religion: it appears, on the contrary, that they arose from a very different cause, and that religion was the thing that restored her to peace and happiness; and, indeed, the only thing that could do it. Mr. Duncombe's words are,

"But, ah! why heaves my breast this pensive sigh?
Why starts this tear unbidden from my eye?
What breast from sighs, what eye from tears refrains,
When sweetly, mournful hapless Wright complains?
And who but grieves to see her gen'rous mind,
For nobler views, and worthier guests design'd,
Amidst the hateful form of black despair,
Wan with the gloom of superstitious care?
In pity-moving lays, with earnest cries,
She call'd on heav'n to close her weary eyes,

And long on earth by heart-felt woes opprest,
Was borne by friendly death to welcome rest!" *

It is grievous to see authors, whose works are likely to be read, take every opportunity to dress out religion in the most ugly forms they can invent, to deter young people from embracing it, and attributing to it the calamities of life which religion alone is able to alleviate and redress.

The following, among other poetical compositions, were written by Mrs. Wright; but at what period of her life is not known.

To the Memory of her Uncle, a Physician.†
He died in 1737.+

"HOW can the muse attempt the string,
Forsaken by her guardian power :
Ah me! that she survives to sing,

Her friend and patron, now no more!
Yet private grief she might suppress,
Since Clio bears no selfish mind;
But, oh she mourns to wild excess
The friend and patron of mankind.

* See Christian Magazine, vol. iii. p. 523.

† Christian Magazine, vol. iii. p 284. See above page 12. Mr. Charles Wesley's Journal.

"Alas! the sovereign healing art,

Which rescu'd thousands from the grave,
Unaided left the gentlest heart,

Nor could its skilful master save.
Who shall the helpless sex sustain,

Now Varo's lenient hand is gone?
Which knew so well to soften pain,
And ward all dangers but his own.

"His darling muse, his Clio dear,

Whom first his favour rais'd to fame,
His gentle Voice vouchsaf'd to cheer,
His art upheld her tender frame.
Pale envy durst not shew her teeth,
Above contempt she gaily shone
Chief favourite, till the hand of death
Endanger'd both by striking one.

Perceiving well, devoid of fear,
His latest fatal conflict nigh,

Reclin'd on her he held most dear,
Whose breast receiv'd his parting sigh;
With ev'ry art and grace adorn'd,

By man admir'd, by heaven approv'd,
Good Varo died—applauded, mourn'd,
And honour'd by the muse he lov'd."'

To the Memory of her Sister.

"IF happy spirits are allow'd to know, And hover round what once they lov'd below, Maria, gentlest excellence, attend,

To one who glories to have call'd thee friend! Remote in merit, though ally'd in blood, Though worthless I, and thou divinely good; Accept, dear shade, from me these artless lays, Who never durst unjustly blame or praise.

"With bus'ness and devotion never cloy'd,

No moment of thy life pass'd unemploy'd:
Well-natur'd mirth matur'd discretion join'd,
Constant attendants on the virtuous mind:
Ah me that heav'n has from this bosom torn
The dearest friend whom I must ever mourn,
Ere Stella could discharge the smallest part
Of what she ow'd to such immense desert.

66

Pleasing thy face and form, tho' heav'n confin'd To scanty limits thy extensive mind:

Witness the taintless lustre of thy skin,

Bright emblem of the brighter soul within ;
That soul which easy, unaffected, mild,

Through jetty eyes with pleasing sweetness smil'd.

"To soundest prudence, life's unerring guide,
To love sincere, religion void of pride;
To friendship, perfect in a female mind,
Which I can never hope again to find:

To mirth, the balm of care, from lightness free,
To steadfast truth, unwearied industry,
To every charm and grace, compriz'd in you,
Sister and friend, a long and last adieu !

A Farewell to the World.

"WHILE sickness rends this tenement of clay,
Th' approaching change with pleasure I survey,
O'erjoy'd to reach the goal with eager pace,
Ere my slow life has measur'd half its race.
No longer shall I bear, my friends to please,
The hard constraint of seeming much at ease,
Wearing an outward smile, a look serene,
While piercing racks and tortures lurk within.
Yet let me not, ungrateful to my God,
Record the evil, and forget the good;
For both I humble adoration pay,

And bless the power who gives and takes away:

Long shall my faithful memory retain,

And oft recall each interval of pain.

Nay to high heav'n for greater gifts I bend,
Health I've enjoy'd, and I had once a friend.
Our labour sweet, if labour it may seem,
Allow'd the sportive and instructive scene :
Yet here no lewd or useless wit was found,
We pois'd the wav'ring sail with ballast sound.
Learning here plac'd her richer stores in view,
Or, wing'd with love, the minutes gaily flew.

"Nay, yet sublimer joys our bosoms prov'd,
Divine benevolence, by heav'n belov'd :

Wan meagre forms, torn from impending death,
Exulting, bless'd us with reviving breath.

The shiv'ring wretch we cloth'd, the mourner cheer'd,
And sickness ceas'd to groan when we appear'd:
Unask'd, our care assists with tender art

Their bodies, nor neglects th' immortal part.

"Sometimes, in shades impicrc'd by Cynthia's beam,
Whose lustre glimmer'd on the dimpled stream;
We led the sprightly dance thro' sylvan scenes,
Or trip'd, like fairies, o'er the level greens
In every breast a gen'rous fervour glows,
Soft bliss, which innocence alone bestows!
From fragrant herbage, deck'd with pearly dews,
And flow'rets of a thousand various hues,
By w.fting gales the mingling odours fly,
And round our heads in whispering breezes sigh.
Whole nature seems to heighten and improve
The holier hours of innocence and love.

Youth, wit, good nature, candour, sense combin'd,
To serve, delight, and civilize mankind,
In wisdom's lore we ev'ry heart engage,
And triumph to restore the golden age!

"Now close the blissful scene, exhausted muse,
The latest blissful scene which thou shalt choose;
Satiate with life, what joys for me remain,
Save one dear wish, to balance ev'ry pain?
To bow my head, with grief and toil opprest,
Till borne by angel-bands to everlasting rest."

Miss Kezzy Wesley was addressed by Mr. Hall, a young gentleman of good understanding, agreeable in his person, and engaging in his address. He was entered at Lincoln College as Mr. Wesley's pupil, on the 22d of January, 1731; but Mr. Wesley was totally ignorant of the matter when he first paid his addresses to his sister. Mr. Hall

* This appears from a letter Mr. Wesley wrote to Mr. Hall, in which he mentions this circumstance.

VOL. I.

entered into Orders while he was at Oxford; and though most of the family thought highly of him in every respect as a religious character, yet Samuel Wesley strongly doubted his sincerity. Mr. John Wesley believed him sincere and pious, but in a letter written to his mother, when Mr. Hall was at Oxford, he speaks of him as highly enthusiastic and superstitious. After he had gained the affections of the young lady he quitted her, and paid his addresses to her elder sister. The family opposed this conduct with great vehemence, especially the three brothers. But the marriage, notwithstanding, took place, and the future conduct of Mr. Hall by no means corresponded to the expectations they at first formed of him. After some years he quitted his wife, and afterwards lived in the most loose and scandalous manner. Mrs. Hall bore her trials with remarkable patience and resignation. Indeed, in this respect, she was a pattern to all christians; for she was never heard to speak ill of any person, whatever injuries she might have received.—Miss Kezzy Wesley died on the 9th of March, 1741, and Mr. Charles Wesley gives the following account of her death in a letter to his brother.

"Yesterday morning sister Kezzy died in the Lord Jesus. He finished his work, and cut it short in mercy— full of thankfulness, resignation, and love, without pain or trouble, she commended her spirit into the hands of Jesus, and fell asleep." Mrs. Hall survived all her brothers and sisters, and died in peace, July 12, 1791.

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