HENRY WATSON FOX.

THERE are some, whose conformity to a high principle of action is so thorough as to seem spontaneous, and their steadfast progress, from the absence of visible effort and struggle, makes a fainter impression on an observer than if there were more inequality, occasional yieldings to resistance with painful recoveries and more urgent speed to make up the loss. If, besides this quality, a life have few or no shining incidents, but depends rather for its value on the sum of a series of acts that are individually and outwardly of no extraordinary estimation, it is still more likely that, however noble it may be when duly considered, it will fail to challenge its just measure of admiration. But it may be thought that for the world, as it now goes, the best service a man can render to society is to live a true life, true to a just and pure standard. And if that lesson of "the chief end of man," in a manual now grown old-fashioned among us, has been truly taught, lives that are true by that test, or even nearly approaching to it in their aim and purpose, are not so numerous that the memorial of one can justly be deemed superfluous. The life, a brief outline of which we here propose, was short, and was surely not splendid, if judged alone by its exterior. ber to whom it was immediately visible was not large. by any means perfect; it had its lapses. Yet whoever, on attentively surveying it, pronounces it of little moment to himself or the world, is seriously advised to try if he can live one like it. He may then possibly come to have a new perception of its character.

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Henry Watson Fox was born at Westoe, in the county of Durham, England, October 1, 1817. He was brought up in the enjoyment of the unspeakable blessings of a Christian home. His father added "to the full character of the English gentleman a beautiful example of the decided, consistent Christian," and his example was seconded by other members of the household. The direct instructions and the daily silent influences that moulded his character and gave direction to his aims were of the most healthful kind. During his childhood he showed an amiable disposition that yielded gracefully

to the Christian discipline of his home, where his early education was conducted till the age of eleven. He then went to the Durham Grammar School for two years, and at the age of thirteen was removed to Rugby School, at that time under the direction of Dr. Arnold, a man of whose excellences it is difficult to speak in fit terms to those not familiar with his life and character, without the appearance of exaggeration. To a vigorous intellect, extensive learning and commanding influence, he added a lofty ideal of Christian manliness, that he loved to hold up to his pupils for their attainment, and which is more, that he exemplified in a degree and with a consistency rarely equalled. Next to a home graced with the utmost social refinement, and sanctified by the spirit of true piety, no greater blessing could have been conferred on the boyhood of Henry Fox than he found in the guidance of Dr. Arnold during the six years he spent at Rugby.

His first decisive indications of a religious character showed themselves at the age of fifteen. His personal relations to the great truths of Christianity seem to have been clearly seen and submitted to, not, indeed, without serious conflict, but with less mental agitation than is experienced by many, especially of those who meet the issue later in life. His earliest impressions were the fruit of the faithful and affectionate admonitions of a brother and sister, to whom he often expressed the warmest gratitude, and from whose counsels he sought guidance and support as he went on his way. The letters in which the progress of his religious life is disclosed, show a strength and sobriety of mind beyond the common attainment of such tender years. Moreover they have a charming simplicity and directness, being free from anything like cant or set phrases of devotion, but showing how the weightiest truths were applied to the common pursuits and trials of a school-boy, and how diligently, according to his opportunities, he sought to do good. "Temptations," he says, "come on so insinuatingly that I can scarcely perceive them at first. The two greatest are, I think, pride of heart, in thinking myself better than others, in comparing myself with others; and though in my understanding I see how wicked I am, yet my heart is so sinful that it is with difficulty I find means of repressing such thoughts. The other temptation is, wasting time, which comes on by little and little, but which I hope soon to be able, with God's assistance, to overcome. I find myself so sinful, that were it not for Christ's blessed promises, I could scarcely fancy he would hear me; but he has felt

the infirmities and temptations of man, and from thence I derive great comfort.”

"There is a very interesting case here. There is a little boy about fourteen years old, in other respects a nice little boy, and one whom I was rather fond of: but, the other day, in talking with him, I discovered he never read his Bible; in short, he knew nothing of the Christian religion. I have been endeavouring to impress on him the awfulness of his state, but he seems scarcely to care whether he is lost or saved. He understands neither heaven nor hell, nor that he is born for any other state than this,-that is to say, he does not feel it to be the case: he has apparently been completely neglected at home with respect to religious matters. Now I want to know how to proceed with him,-how to open his mind,-for I think when he once perceives in his heart how wicked he, together with all others are, that he will be more able and willing to understand the truths of the gospel."

In a subsequent letter he speaks of his "little pupil," as improving. Another boy with whom he conversed excited hopes which proved illusory. The self-denials of a Christian life were too much for his inclinations. "I was the more disappointed in him," Henry writes, "as I had before found him willing in the general, but when I came to particulars, and he saw he must give up certain pleasures if he would give himself entirely to God, then he thought he had gone far enough and I had gone too far: for God tells us to go as far as we can."

So he evidently sought to press forward, and to this end made. very diligent use of the means of grace. "I always find the Sunday," he writes, "too short for what I want to do on it. I therefore intend to make some other day during the week like a second Sunday, and, except my lessons, read and think of nothing save God only. Many others here think as I used to do formerly, that Sunday is too long, and therefore spend two or three hours in bed longer than usual, and spend the day in listlessness, or perhaps worse, never thinking what a blessing they are throwing away. I feel now as you told me you did, that the Sabbath is quite a rest from the worldly thoughts of the other parts of the week. Last Sunday was a most beautiful day, and I took a walk by myself into the country, and never felt so happy before. I continued for more than an hour praising and praying to God, and thanking him. I shall never neglect it again. I felt it as a preparation for heaven."

His progress, as may be supposed in one so young, was slow and sometimes tentative, but generally sure. "What I have till now found my greatest difficulty," he writes, a few weeks after, "has been prayer. I could offer up words, but as I could have no idea of God, I felt I could not offer up my heart to him: but lately, on thinking and at last feeling, that God is always present in my inmost soul, I can heartily ask for what I need, and often, and continually throughout the day, keep my thoughts on him, which I used to find almost impossible. I derive the very greatest advantage from this, for whilst I am continually keeping my heart with God, it is contrary to my very nature to commit sin against him; that is, at least, known sin. I feel and know that this has not been through my own means, but through the grace of God alone." And a month later he says: "I feel so happy now; I have at last been able to overcome my greatest temptation, viz: of lying in bed too late; and in examining myself in an evening, I generally find that God has enabled me to overcome every known temptation during the day." His conceptions were still indistinct on some important subjects, but he was in "the path of the just," and the light shone "brighter and brighter unto the perfect day."

On reaching the "sixth form," he found himself invested, by virtue of his standing, with the dignity of "præposter." By thus committing to the older boys a share in the discipline of the school, Dr. Arnold sought to develope the more sober and manly qualities, and while this custom, and their privilege of "fagging" their juniors, which Dr. Arnold kept in full force, involved some risk of tyranny on the part of bad boys, yet the sense of responsibility, the consciousness that on them the discipline, and consequently the credit of the school, largely depended, exerted a valuable influence on members of "the sixth." "I find a very difficult point to manage in my duty as præposter," Henry wrote, "namely, to draw the line between 'official' and 'personal' offences,-to discover where I feel revenge, and where I do anything to enforce the power that properly belongs to me. I think I may learn from this not to desire earthly power, as it only increases our difficulties and temptations."

The profession to which he was originally destined was the law, but other desires were gradually awakened. These he expressed in a letter to his sister, of April 13, 1835: "I feel every day an increasing desire of becoming a clergyman. I desire to be always employed in more immediately serving God, and bringing many souls unto

salvation. I am aware that we can do our duty and a great deal of good in every station of life; but I think that a clergyman is more particularly appointed to do good, being a light set upon a hill. I have hitherto, and I know you have at home also, looked forward to my going to the bar, but it is not so now, it can scarcely ever be too late to change my prospects. If it is particularly the wish of my father and mother and you all that I should fulfill the original proposition, I willingly acquiesce; but if it is indifferent, or of no great importance to you, I should prefer very much to enter the service of the church." It was not long before his thoughts went still further. In August he writes: "I have been reading the life of Henry Martyn, and I have derived the most instructing lessons from it. I found how much the enjoyment of things of this world has hold on me, and when I considered his state of giving himself up to be a missionary, and asked myself, could I give up home and the pleasures and happiness I enjoy from worldly objects, to do this laborious work for the Lord's sake? I found the weakness of my love to God, and my need of constant prayer that I may set my affections on things above, and not things below; that I may confide my present as well as my future happiness to my heavenly Father, and make God my all in all, my desire, my happiness and my hope."

To do every thing "for God's glory," he repeatedly speaks of as his constant aim. His liveliest apprehensions and most constant jealousies of himself were awake on this point. In studies, recreations, efforts to do good, the dread of acting from selfish or worldly motives, led to continual watchfulness. In a letter of April 17, 1836, he says: "I feel a very great temptation attacking me now, in the form of a love of this world, which has come upon me from the prospect of the examinations at the end of this half-year: for these are constantly before my eyes, on account of my preparation for them, and I am led to look forward to them as the end to which all my present labours are to be directed, instead of doing all things directly for God's sake;-this necessarily brings a great darkness over me, since I am tempted to have another object in view instead of Christ; but yet with the temptation God gives a way to escape, and I trust and pray, that by His grace I may not only come out of this trial unhurt, but improved by it. I read in Dr. Arnold's sermons to-day, that 'if we have truly tasted that the Lord is gracious, our only reason for wishing to remain on earth must be to