MISS ANN BACON.

A Letter from her Brother to one of her intimate Friends.

DEAR MADAM,

ay

Ir having been the wish of yourself, and many others, that a short memoir of my late sister should be printed, and distributed through the circle of our friends, as a grateful tribute to her beloved memory; I am induced to acquiesce in the request offered to me as her near relation, to attempt to put together the few items which may be interesting in her life and religious experience. I say few, not because I consider her character and conduct as affording little of what was interesting and engaging to those who best knew her; but as deeming it a mistake which has sometimes been committed, to give all the particulars of the life of an individual, whose sphere of motion has perhaps included little more than an occasional remove from town to the country, and from the house of one friend to another.

"We are fond," says Dr. Goldsmith, "of talking of those who have given us pleasure: not that we have any thing important to say, but because the subject is pleasing." On this principle I write; professing to attach no other importance to the narrative, than that which true religion must ever stamp upon the memoir of the most humble individual.

The few pages we propose printing, may, however, fall into the hands of a stranger. I therefore premise, that the subject of this sketch was born on the 10th of May 1768, and was eldest daughter of the late John Bacon, Esq., R.A., whose memoirs were published by the Rev. Richard Cecil, M.A. In those

Memoirs, the character of a decided and consistent Christian is fully and justly displayed; and in her mother, it may truly be stated, there was an example of all that is lovely in the Christian character. May I digress from the main subject, to add, that this woman was "full of mercy and good fruits." She wore with peculiar grace, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. She was one of whom we might say, with more propriety than of many others, that she "sat at the feet of Christ to hear his words," having made her choice of " the one thing needful;" which, it may not be improper to mention, from the natural diffidence of her mind, she always feared to appropriate to herself; but which, on a bed of death and of triumph, she found secured to her by the immutable promise of Him who hath said, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you."

Born of such parents, it may be needless to add, that our late sister was dedicated to God from her birth. At her baptism, I picture to my mind a second Hannah, a second Mary, in fervent prayer and faith presenting her infant as a free-will offering to the service of Heaven. The minister, probably, discerned these parental feelings. After naming the child, he returned it to the mother, addressing her in these words, (partly quoting those of Pharaoh's daughter,) "Take this child, and nurse it for the Lord." We are assured, this admonition was not given in vain. We may venture to answer for the many prayers and the tender solicitude of which this child was the subject. Yet, it is, perhaps, not unimportant to state, that, for a period of twenty-three years, these prayers appeared to be unproductive! That Divine assertion, "Every one that asketh, receiveth," seemed to be fallacious.

Her mother, when on her death-bed, committed her five children into the hands of her. heavenly Father; and among the petitions which she fervently

and repeatedly offered in their behalf, was this; that they might be kept from the evils of the world. This prayer was not uttered in vain in the instance of my sister. She was preserved, although she acknowledged herself to be naturally vain, and disposed to join in every kind of worldly pleasure and amusement; and, from what I remember of her younger days, I have no hesitation in believing, that, had she been otherwise educated, she would have become a willing subject for the gayest scenes of the fashionable world. She possessed no inconsiderable share of address and ability, joined, in these younger days, with personal attractions, which would have made such an education a great, if not a fatal snare to her. To speak of personal attractions, may appear beneath the object of this memoir; yet, as many are supposed to take refuge in religion as a source of happiness, because they are unable to gain the notice or admiration of the world, I am induced to add, that the many candidates for her hand, which offered themselves, form a sufficient proof of the contrary in the present instance.

In this place it may be proper to give a further intimation of her natural disposition. I think it should be stated, (as we profess to give a just description, and not to flatter,) that she was, on the one hand, naturally irritable, and, as she confessed, volatile, and even vain. On the other hand, those were unacquainted with her, who did not know her to be of a disposition the most open, affectionate, tender-hearted, benevolent, grateful, forbearing, generous, and disinterested. This was joined to an exquisite delicacy of feeling and deportment, which manifested itself on every occasion, and, united to her natural vivacity and affability, made her generally admired, even by those who had little knowledge of her sterling worth; in naming which, we justly sum up her character as a Christian.

At the time of her mother's death, which happened

when she was thirteen years of age, she was at the boarding-school of a lady of eminent piety, who endeavoured to improve the important event, and to impress it on the mind of her scholar. She was deeply sensible of the loss she had sustained by the death of such a parent; yet, as it regards that spiritual improvement of the event, which it was the endeavour of her governess to effect in her mind, she says, (in a diary written some years afterwards,) "I attended to her for the moment, but no longer." She adds, in reference to this period: "I used to attend the ministry of a faithful and animated preacher; but he had no power to unstop my deaf ears, or to dissolve my stony heart. His words were lost on me, as water spilt on the ground: I regarded them not."

She goes on to state: "A short time afterwards, I chanced to view some pictures representing the torments of the damned: on which I reflected, Will this ever be my case? Conscious of my irreligious state, I thought, if I were to die now, the miseries of the wretched victims here represented, would assuredly be mine. Terrified at this idea, I determined to fit myself for heaven, by reading, praying, and abstaining from the thoughts of those worldly pleasures, the contemplation of which had hitherto afforded me so much delight. But, alas! I depended on an arm of flesh, or, in other words, on the strength of my own resolutions; and I found it fail. Only three days after these impressions and resolutions, some persons were describing the amusements of an evening spent at a playhouse. 1 recollect wishing I had been with them, and thinking, that if I did not give up my proposed reformation, I must debar myself from much pleasure. I therefore determined to defer it till I was older. On my uttering some sentiment of this kind, a friend remarked to me, that I might arrive at a death-bed before the period of my promised reformation. I

thought, This is true; but I may repent then, as many have done before me; and if I leave no testimony of my repentance behind me, yet, if I do repent sufficiently to gain heaven, the fears of my friends will not signify." She adds: "I shudder when I think of my dreadful situation at that time. My state was that of the fool in the Gospel, defying God, and saying, 'Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.

The diary then mentions, that, in seasons of sickness, she was generally visited by serious reflections. Miss Bacon proceeds: "At the age of twenty, a severe ague occasioned me repeatedly to make the following resolutions: If I am restored to health again, I will certainly be very good in future; I will become very religious, very strict, very circumspect. But no sooner did my health return, than all my resolutions were broken, or forgotten." She, however, mentions, that, shortly after this, the idea of public diversions and worldly company became less fascinating to her, from discerning that very little dependence could be placed on many worldly characters who called themselves friends, and whose friendship, she perceived, was generally formed on some selfish motive. She then mentions, that when any circumstance occurred which depressed her spirits, she was induced to pray; and frequently, on such occasions, has wished herself in a cottage, remote from society, where she might give herself up to the duties of religion; but, when she regained her spirits, prayer was neglected, and her mind constantly reverted to some plan of worldly happiness. She remarks: "This shews the folly and insensibility of the human heart. The road to true happiness was before me; yet, I was preferring that, the end of which, but for Divine mercy, would have proved eternal misery." We now come to a period of her history which is best related entirely by herself; and shall therefore make a more ample extract from her diary.