“It has pleased God to let me see that I can make no progress in religion till I have acquired some sense of the misery and nothingness of human nature, and of our entire dependence on Him. Though I go into the common room to avoid a greater evil,—though I would not live the life of those who spend their time there for all the world,—though I am scarcely capable of doing anything which is more disagreeable to me,—yet the poison is not removed. While I am with them, I love my sense, my judgment, my reason. It is true, I am all the time in pain; but I cannot say, at that time, they lead an un-Christian, dangerous life. I believe it is for want of faith, and for not looking upon it as a great blessing, since it is not my own choice. I want to know how to remove this delusion, and how to make an advantage of that which God no doubt intended for my good. If I do not make a use of this cross, I am satisfied it will be the ruin of me. “Oh lay this to your heart, and make my case your own. Do not think you can spend your time better than in answering this letter. I hope you will not forget to pray to God to enable me to follow you wherever it is His will, and never to omit putting me in mind of it when you write to me. “Mr. Robson is in a dangerous way. He is convinced of the necessity of being a Christian, but cannot leave the world. Mr. Carter, I fear, is not steady. Mr. Hervey is gone. Mr. Broughton is not yet returned. If he go to Georgia, it is best.” This is a curious letter,—not remarkable for either intelligence or scholarship; but it partly unfolds the character of its writer; reveals some of the difficulties of the collegiate life of the Oxford Methodists; shows the importance which they attached to fasts; and points to Wesley as the leader of the religious brotherhood. The Wesleys had left Oxford; but, for a time at least, Charles Morgan and Mr. Broughton carried on the work which they and the elder Morgan had commenced. Charles Morgan undertook the care of Bocardo, which he visited three days every week. He read an hour every other day, at the house of Mr. Fox, in the Catechism of the Bishop of the Isle of Man; and, in the same place, held a meeting every Sunday night with “a cheerful number of Christians.” “The Lord’s kingdom,” he writes, November 27, 1735, “increaseth apace; and I find-more and more comfort in the holy Scriptures every day.” Our information concerning Robert Kirkham, William Morgan, and his younger brother Charles, is exhausted. As Oxford Methodists, they deserve notice; but, so far as is ascertained, they were of comparatively little use either to the Church or to the world. William Morgan had no opportunity for _public_ usefulness; and Robert Kirkham and Charles Morgan drift away into the great ocean of existence, and leave no track behind them. THE REV. JOHN CLAYTON, M.A., THE JACOBITE CHURCHMAN.