for my credit nor for my comfort. The company, living, lodging, and connexions, were such as I had not been used to, and, if possible, far exceeded that pitch of dissipation to which I had before arrived.

I had not been here long before I was convinced that I could not comfortably associate with my new companions. Their language, manners, and practice, were disagreeable rather than entertaining to me. A silent gloom spread over all my enjoyments, and rendered my situation truly melancholy. But seeing no way in which I could be delivered from it, I endeavoured to make my life as 'comfortable as pos sible, by a reserved disposition and obedient conduct, which in some respects turned to my advantage by drawing the attention of my superiors. Thus, with a more decent appearance than is usually seen in that situation, I became more respected both by my officers and the inhabitants of the town.

Being thus situated, my leisure time was chiefly spent in the fields, reflecting on my past conduct and present circumstances. One day being alone in the bed-room, where many of us lay, I saw a Common Prayer book, belonging to one of the men, which I took up to read;

but fearing lest any of them shoula come in and see me at my pretended devotion, and I should thereby expose myself to ridicule, I retired with it into the fields, and there sought a convenient and private place where I might be screened from the eyes of any person who might pass by. At last I found a quarry, into which I entered, and seated myself in the most secret part. I then took out my book to read; but found myself quite at a loss where to begin. After turning over the leaves for some time, my attention was fixed on one of the long lessons appointed for the Easter week. Here I began, and read on till I came to these words, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that were sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." Here I was stopped; a cold chill ran through every vein of my body, My secret place became too open to abide in any longer. Convictions, like so many arrows, entered my very soul, and, like a two-edged sword, divided asunder between the joints and the marrow. My sins were presented in order before me, and my spirit within me was overwhelmed. A flood of tears gave a little relief to my troubled breast,

But oh! the horrors of my mind, what tongue can express? I soon left my secret place, and wandered about from hedge to hedge, and from field to field; but no place was secret enough to hide my guilty head. The omniscient eye of God had found me out; his omnipotent arm arrested me; his justice pursued me, and his ter rors made me afraid.

In this situation I wandered about like Noah's dove, but could find no resting-place, Guilt, like a ravenous beast, fastened upon my conscience; my sins stared me in the face; I sought for a place of repentance, but could find none. My life now became truly miserable. Well might Solomon say, "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit whọ can bear?" In this uncomfortable state, I used to retire into the fields as opportunity offered, and when I could, took the Prayer Book with me; but of this I was soon deprived. Then I had nothing with which to amuse myself, but a reflection of my past conduct, and the calamitous situation into which I had brought myself. My external circumstances were bad, but my internal feelings infinitely worse. I had but little rest. Peace I was a stranger to. The profligate life which I had lived, my disobedience to my parents, and the many kind expostulations of

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my friends, to which I had turned a deaf ear, all combined together, and like many goads pierced my very heart. Those words returned with redoubled force upon my mind, "How often would I have gathered thee, but thou wouldest not," and renewed the painful sensations of my soul. Also a recollection of many pathetic expostulations, parental tears, and fervent prayers, which I had so often slighted. I had now no friend to pity or relieve me, the streams of comfort were shut up. I used to resort to the established church as I had oppor. tunity; but, alas! I found no comfort. I was soon more fully taught by awful experience, the truth of those words, "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."

CHAP. II.

He embarks for Germany-Some providential Occurrences during the first Campaign.

MAY 11, 1760, was the day appointed by Government for our removal from hence for

foreign service. We accordingly prepared for it. Wives parted from their husbands, and children from their parents, never expecting to see each other again in the body. This scene renewed my grief, which became almost intolerable; insomuch, that for almost a whole day it was out of the power of any to pacify me, not knowing the cause of my grief. The morning came, and the drums beat the general march, which was soon followed by the same signal for assembling together. Oh, what a scene again presented itself to my view! Some singing, some swearing, some crying, and some wallowing in the streets; women and children weeping at every corner, taking a final farewell as we marched along, never, never to see each other again. What eye can behold such a scene, and not drop a tear? What heart can reflect, and not feel a sympa