My father, Dr. Priestley, having taken the trouble of writing down the principal occurrences of his life, to the period of his arrival in this country, that account is now presented to the public in the state in which he left it, one or two trifling alterations excepted. The simple unaffected manner in which it is written, will be deemed, I have no doubt, far more interesting, than if the narrative itself had been made the text of a more laboured composition. Independent of the desire, so universal among mankind, to know somewhat of the private as well as the public history of those who have made themselves eminent among their fellow citizens, the life of my father is likely to be more useful as well as more interesting than those of the generality of literary men; not only as it is an account of great industry combined with great abilities, successfully exerted for the extension of human improvement, but because it affords a striking proof of the value of rational Christianity, adopted upon mature reflection and practiced with habitual perseverance. Few men have had to struggle for so many years with circumstances more straitened and precarious than my father; few men have ventured to attack so many or such inveterate prejudices respecting the prevalent religion of his country, or have advanced bolder or more important opinions in opposition to the courtly politics of the powers that be; few have had to encounter more able opponents in his literary career, or have been exposed to such incessant and vindictive obloquy, from men of every description, in return for his unremitting exertions in the cause of truth; yet none have more uniformly proceeded with a single eye, regardless of consequences, to act as his conviction impelled him, and his conscience dictated. His conduct brought with it its own reward, reputation and respect from the most eminent of his contemporaries, the affectionate attachment of most valuable friends, and a cheerfulness of disposition arising in part from conscious rectitude which no misfortunes could long repress. But to me it seems, that conscious rectitude alone would hardly, of itself, have been able to support him under some of the afflictions he was doomed to bear. He had a farther resource, to him never failing and invaluable, a firm persuasion of the benevolence of the Almighty towards all his creatures, and the conviction that every part of his own life, like every part of the whole system, was preordained for the best upon the whole of existence. Had he entertained the gloomy notions of Calvinism in which he was brought up, this cheering source of contentment and resignation would probably have failed him, and irritation and despondency would have gained an unhappy ascendancy. But by him the deity was not regarded as an avenging tyrant, punishing, for the sake of punishing his weak and imperfect creatures, but as a wise and kind parent, inflicting those corrections only that are necessary to bring