thing, and had set himself much to brake it off; but he confessed that he was so much overpowered by that ill custom, that he could not speak with any warmth without repeated oaths, which, upon any sort of provocation, came almost naturally from him. But in his

last remorses this did so sensibly affect him that by a resolute and constant watchfulness, 'the habit of it was perfectly mastered, so that upon the returns of pain, which were very severe and frequent upon him the last day I was with him, or upon such displeasures as people sick or in pain are apt to take of a sudden at those about them; on all these occasions he never swore an oath all the while I was there.

Once he was offended with the delay of one that he thought made not haste enough, with somewhat he called for, and said in a little heat, that did fellow." Soon after I told him, I was glad to find his style so reformed, and that he had so entirely overcome that ill habit of swearing; only that word of calling any d-d, which had returned upon him, was not decent.

His answer was, Oh, that language of fiends, which was so familiar to me hangs yet about me: sure none has deserved more to be damned than I have done. And after he had humbly asked God pardon for it, he desired me to call the person to him, that he might ask his forgiveness; but I told him that was needless;

for he had said it of one that did not hear it and so could not be offended by it.

In this disposition of mind did he continue all the while I was with him, four days together: he was then brought so low that all hope of recovery was gone Much purulent matter came from him with his urine, which he passed always with some pain; but one day with inexpressible torment. Yet he bore it decently, without breaking out into repinings or impatient complaints. He imagined he had a stone in his passage, but it being searched none was found.

The whole substance of his body was drained by the ulcer, and nothing was left but skin and bone; and by lying much on his back, the parts there began to mortify. But he had been formerly so low, that he seemed as much past all hopes of life as now; which made him one morning, after a full and sweet night's rest, procured by laudanum given him without his knowledge, to fancy it was an effort of nature, and to begin to entertain some hopes of recovery: for he said, he felt himself perfectly well, and that he had nothing ailing him but an extreme weakness which might go off in time, and then he entertained me with a scheme he had laid down for the rest of his life,how retired, how strict, and how studious he intended to be. But this was soon over, for he quickly felt, that it was only the effect of a good sleep, and that he was still in a very desperate state,

I thought to have left him on Friday; but ⚫ not without some passion he desired me to stay that day. There appeared no symptom of present death; and a worthy physician then with him told me, that though he was so low that an accident might carry him away on a sudden; yet without that, he thought he might live yet some weeks.

So on Saturday, at four o'clock in the morning, I left him, being the 24th of July. But I durst not take leave of him; for he had expressed so great an unwillingness to part with me the day before, that if I had not presently yielded to one day's stay, it was like to have given him some trouble; therefore I thought it better to leave him without any formality.

Some hours after he asked for me; and when it was told him I was gone, he seemed to be troubled, and said, Has my friend left me? then I shall die shortly. After that, he spake but once or twice till he died. He lay much silent. Once they heard him pray very devoutly. And on Monday, about two o'clock in the morning, he died without any convulsion, or so much as a groan.

CONCLUSION.

THUS he lived, and thus he died, in the three and thirtieth year of his age. Nature had fitted him for great things, and his knowl

edge and observation qualified him to have been one of the most extraordinary men not only of his nation, but of the age he lived in: and I do verily believe, that if God had thought fit to have continued him longer in the world, he had been the wonder and delight of all that knew him.

But the infinitely wise God knew better: what was fit for him, and what the age deserved. For men who have so cast off all sense of God and religion, deserve not so signal a blessing, as the example and conviction which the rest of his life might have given them.

And I am apt to think, that the divine goodness took pity on him, and seeing the sincerity of his repentance, would try and venture him no more in circumstances of temptation, perhaps too hard for human frailty.

Now he is at rest, and I am very confident enjoys the fruit of his late, sincere repentance. But such as live, and still go on in their sins and impieties, and will not be awakened neither by this, nor the other alarms that are about their ears, are, it seems, given up by God to a judicial hardness and impenitency.

Here is a public instance of one who lived on their side, but could not die on it and though none of all our libertines understood better than he, the secret mysteries of sin, had more studied every thing that could support a man in it, and had more resisted all external

means of conviction than he had done; yet, when the hand of God inwardly touched him, he could no longer kick against those pricks, but humbled himself under that mighty hand, and, as he used often to say in his prayers, he who had so often denied him, found then no other shelter, but his mercies and compassions,

I have written this account with all the tenderness and caution I could use and in whatsoever I may have failed, I have been strict in the truth of what I have related, remembering that of Job, Will ye lie for God? ›

Religion has strength and evidence enough in itself, and needs no support from lies and made stories. I do not pretend to have given the formal words that he said, though I have done that where I could remember them. But I have written this with the same sineerity, that I would have done, had I known I had been to die immediately after I had finished it.

I did not take notes of our discourses last winter after we parted; so I may perhaps, in the setting out of my answers to him, have enlarged on several things both more fully and more regularly, than I could say them in such free discourses as we had. I am not so sure of all I set down as said by me, as I ain of all said by him to me. But yet the substance of the greatest part, even of that, is the same