answered, They are not hidden to me, but discovered; and my greatest torment, my punishment here, is for an example to others. O that there was no God, or that this God could cease to be, for I am sure he will have no mercy upon me!'

"Alas!' said I, 'there is no contending with our Creator, and therefore avoid such words as may provoke him more.'

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'True,' replied he, 'there is no contending; I wish there was a possibility of getting above God-that would be a heaven to me.'

O how do

I entreated him not to give way to such blasphemous thoughts, for. Here he interrupted me. Read we not in the Revelation of them that blasphemed God because of their pains? I am one of their number. I envy the happiness of Cain and Judas !' "But,' replied I, 'you are yet alive, and do not feel the torments of those that are in hell.'

'He answered, 'This is either true or false; if it be true, how heavy will those torments be, of which I do not yet feel the uttermost? But I know it is false, and that I endure more than the spirits of the damned; for I have the very same tortures upon my spirit that they have, beside those I endure in my body. I believe at the day of judgment the torments of my mind and body will both together be more intense; but, as I now am, no spirit in hell endures what I do. How gladly would I change my condition for hell! How earnestly would I entreat my angry Judge to send me thither, were I not afraid that out of vengeance he would deny me!' Here he closed his eyes a little, and began to talk very wildly, every now and then groaning and gnashing his teeth; but soon after, opening his eyes, he grew sensible again, and felt his own pulse, saying, 'How lazily my minutes go on! When will be the last breath, the last pulse, that shall beat my spirit out of this decayed mansion,

into the desired regions of death and hell? O, I find it is just now at hand! And what shall I say now? Am not 1 afraid again to die? Ah! the forlorn hopes of him that has not God to go to! Nothing to fly to for peace and comfort!' Here his speech failed him: we all, believing him to be dying, went to prayer, which threw him into an agony; in which, though he could not speak, he turned away his face, and made what noise he could to hinder himself from hearing. Perceiving this we gave

over.

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As soon as he could speak, (which was not till after some time,) he said, 'Tigers and monsters, are ye also become devils to torment me, and give me a prospect of heaven, to make my hell more intolerable?'

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Alas! sir,' said I, 'it is our desire of your happiness that casts us down at the throne of grace; if God denies assistance, who else can give it? If he will not have mercy, whither must we go for it?'

"He replied, 'O! that is the dart that wounds me! God is become my enemy, and there is none so strong as to deliver me out of his hands. He consigns me over to eternal vengeance, and there is none able to redeem me! Were there such another God as he, who would patronize my cause; or were I above God, or independent of him; could I act or dispose of myself as I pleased; then would my horrors cease, and the expectations and designs of my formidable enemies be frustrated. But O! this cannot be, for I:

"His voice failed again, and he began to struggle and gasp for breath; which, having recovered, with a groan dreadful and horrid as if it had been more than human, he cried out, O! the insufferable pangs of hell and damnation!' and then expired.

4. SERVIN.

THE account which the celebrated Sully gives us of young Servin is uncommon. "The beginning of June, 1623," says he, I set out for Calais, where I was to embark, having with me a retinue of upwards of two hundred gentlemen, or who called themselves such, of whom a considerable number were really of the first distinction. Just before my departure, old Servin came and presented his son to me, and begged I would use my endeavours to make him a man of some worth and honesty; but he confessed he dared not hope, not through any want of understanding or capacity in the young man, but from his natural inclination to all kinds of vice. I found him to be at once both a wonder and a monster; I can give no other idea of that assemblage of the most excellent and most pernicious qualities. Let the reader represent to himself a man of genius so lovely, and an understanding so extensive, as rendered him scarce ignorant of anything that could be known; of so vast and ready a comprehension, that he immediately made himself master of what he attempted; and of so prodigious a memory, that he never forgot what he had once learned; he possessed all parts of philosophy and the mathematics, particularly fortification and drawing; even in theology he was so well skilled, that he was an excellent preacher whenever he had a mind to exert that talent, and an able disputant for and against the reformed religion indifferently; he not only understood Greek, Hebrew, and all the languages which we call learned, but also the different jargons or modern dialects; he accented and pronounced them so naturally, and so perfectly imitated the gestures and manners both of the several nations of Europe, and the particular provinces

of France, that he might have been taken for a native of all or any of these countries; and this quality he applied to counterfeit all sorts of persons, wherein he succeeded wonderfully; he was moreover the best comedian and greatest droll that perhaps ever appeared; he had a genius for poetry, and had written many verses; he played upon almost all instruments, was a perfect master of music, and sung most agreeably and justly; he was of a disposition to do, as well as to know, all things; his body was perfectly well suited to his mind he was light, nimble, dexterous, and fit for all exercises; he could ride well, and in dancing, wrestling, and leaping, he was admired; there are not any recreative games that he did not know; and he was skilled in almost all the mechanic arts. But now for the reverse of the medal: here it appeared that he was treacherous, cruel, cowardly, deceitful; a liar, a cheat, a drunkard, and a glutton; a sharper in play, immersed in every species of vice, a blasphemer, an atheist; in a word, in him might be found all the vices contrary to nature, honour, religion, and society; the truth of which he himself evinced with his latest breath, for he died in the flower of his age, in a common brothel, perfectly corrupted by his debaucheries, and expired with a glass in his hand, cursing and denying God."

It is evident from this extraordinary case, that "with the talents of an angel a man may be a fool." There is no necessary connexion between great natural abilities and religious qualifications. They may go together, but they are frequently found asunder.

5. EDWARD GIBBON.

EDWARD GIBBON, the celebrated author of the history of the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," is well known to have been what is termed a philosopher and an infidel.

He was born in 1737. In early life he became a papist; he afterward renounced popery, and seems to have paid little attention to religion in any form; nor does it appear that he ever made it a matter of serious thought or inquiry. In his memoirs he has undesignedly presented a striking view of the cheerless nature of infidelity. "The present is a fleeting moment— the past is no more-and our prospect of futurity dark and doubtful. This day may possibly be my last, but the laws of probability-so true in general, so fallacious in particular-still allow about fifteen years. I shall soon enter into the period, which, as the most agreeable of his long life, was selected by the judgment and experience of the sage Fontenelle. His choice is approyed by the eloquent historian of nature, who fixes our moral happiness to the mature season in which our passions are supposed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambition satisfied, our fame and fortune established on a solid basis. In private conversation, that great and amiable man added the weight of his own experience; and this autumnal felicity might be exemplified in the lives of Voltaire, Hume, and many other men of letters. I am far more inclined to embrace than to dispute this comfortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay of mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe, that two causes, the abbreviation of time and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life."