On the whole, there is considerable truth in these words, although author and reader may alike take exception to some of them. The circumstances and situation of the life of this singular man have been set so clearly before the reader in these pages, that there can be no difficulty in apprehending the unpropitious and unfavourable atmosphere through which he was compelled to move. Few men can ever have more richly deserved the epithet of self-made: no systematic tuition could he ever have received; near to manhood before he even attempted to obtain, before he had even presented to him any inducements to attempt, the most rudimental elements of knowledge; we cannot gather that he had any teachers, who assisted him with more than hints, or the loan of a grammar, a lexicon, or some volume he desired to read; there are no indications of any particular kindness, no friendly hands, no wicket, or gate of school, or college opened to him. And as with the commencement of his career, so with its course; his intercourse was, probably, mostly with men, and minds inferior to his own; books, we have seen, he had few, although he read, with avidity, wherever he could borrow; and as with his mental training, so with his spiritual experience,—it appears all to have gone on within himself, very much unrelieved, and unaided; he had to fight his own doubts, and to gather strength in the wrestling, and the conflict. And as he thus formed himself, without assistance, so, apparently without any human assistance, he continued to labour on, amidst the popular acclamations of fame. The absence of all, and every exhibition of gratitude, is peculiarly affecting. Altogether, this strikes us as a grand, self-sustained, and much-enduring life, always hard, and necessitous; but its lines are very indelible, written as with a pen of iron, and as with the point of a diamond. It is natural that, in his old age, he should speak thus to a young man of the—
“I am an old man, my dear boy, and you are just entering the ministry. Let me now, and here tell you one thing, and I commend it to your attention, and memory. All the ministers that I have ever known, who have fallen into disgrace, or into uselessness, _have been idle men_. I never am much afraid of a young minister, when I ascertain that he can, and does, _fairly sit down to his book_. There is Mr. —, of whom we were talking just now, a man of such unhappy temper, and who has loved, for many years, to meddle in all sorts of religious disputes and divisions. He would have, long ago, been utterly wrecked, had not his habits of industry saved him. He has stuck to his book, and that has kept him from many dishonours, which, had he been an idle man, must have, by this time, overwhelmed him. An idle man is in the way of every temptation; temptation has no need to seek him; _he is at the corner of the street_, _ready_, _and waiting for it_. In the case of a minister of the Gospel, this peril is multiplied by his position, his neglected duties, the temptations peculiar to his condition, and his own superior susceptibility. _Remember this—stick to your book_.”