gayest temper I ever knew. But when I visited him; Oh! how was the glory departed from him! I found him no more that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to be; but languishing, pining away, and withering under the chas tening hand of GoD. His limbs feeble and trembling; his countenance forlorn and ghastly; and the little breath he had left, sobbed out in sorrowful sighs! His body hastening apace to the dust to lodge in the silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation. His soul just going to GoD who gave it: preparing itself to wing away unto its long home; to enter upon an unchangeable and eternal state. When I was come up into his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began as well as he was able to speak." Oh that I had been wise, that I had known this, that I had considered my latter end. Ah! Mr. death is knocking at my doors: in a few hours more I shall draw my last gasp; and then judgment, the tremendous judgment! how shall I appear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing, and omnipotent God? How shall I endure the day of his coming!" When I mentioned among many other things, that strict holiness which he had formerly so slightly esteemed, he replied with a hasty eagerness: "Oh! that holiness is the only thing I now long for. I have not words to tell you how highly I value it. I would gladly part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world to obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened, I clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is there in the place whither I am going but GOD. Or what is there to be desired on earth but religion?"-But if this God should restore you to health, said I, think you that you should alter your former course?" I call heaven and earth to witness," said he, "I would labour for holiness, as I shall soon labour for life. As for riches and pleasures, and the applauses of men, I count them as dross and dung, no more to my happiness than the feathers that lie on the floor. Oh! if the righteous JUDGE would try me once more; if he would but reprieve, and spare me a little longer; in what a spirit would I spend the remainder of my days! I would know no other business, aim at no other end, than perfecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to that; every means of grace; every opportunity of spiritual improvement, should be

dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas! why do I amuse myself with fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now insignificant, because they are too late. The day in which I should have worked is over and gone, and I see a sad horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. Heretofore, woe is me! when GoD called, I refused; when he invited, I was one of them that made excuse. Now, therefore, I receive the reward of my deeds; fearfulness and trembling are come upon me; I smart, and am in sore anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what I shall be; but sure I shall be ruined, undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction!"

This sad scene I saw with thine eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with mine ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb*.

11. Mr. CUMBERLAND, in the Observer, gives us one of the most mournful tales, that ever was related, concerning a gentleman of Infidel principles, whom he denominates ANTITHEUS. "I remember him," says he, " in the height of his fame, the hero of his party; no man so caressed, followed, and applauded. He was a little loose, his friends would own, in his moral character, but then he was the honestest fellow in the world. It was not to be denied that he was rather free in his notions; but then he was the best creature living. I have seen men of the gravest characters wink at

* Extract of a Letter from Mr. HERVEY to BEAU NASH, Esquire, at Bath.

If the stings, lashes, twinges, and scorpions of a guilty conscience are so horrible while we continue in the body, what must they be when we are dislodged by death, and find that our damnation is sealed by the JUDGE SUPREME! Let the lost soul in SHAKESPEARE speak some little of future woe:

"But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy warm blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres:
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood."

his sallies, because he was so pleasant and so well bred, it was impossible to be angry with him. Every thing went well with him, and ANTITHEUS seemed to be at the summit of hu man prosperity, when he was suddenly seized with the most alarming symptoms. He was at his country house, and (which had rarely happened to him) he at that time chanced to be alone; wife or family he had none, and out of the multitude of his friends no one happened to be near him at the time of his attack. A neighbouring physician was called out of bed in the night, to come to him with all haste in this extremity. He . found him sitting up in his bed, supported by pillows, his countenance full of horror, his breath struggling as in the article of death, his pulse intermitting, and at times beating with such rapidity, as could hardly be counted. ANTITHEUS dismissed the attendants he had about him, and eagerly demanded of the physician, if he thought him in danger. The physician answered that he must fairly tell him he was in imminent danger." How so! how so! do you think me dying?" -He was sorry to say the symptoms indicated death.--Impóssible! you must not let me die: I dare not die: O doctor! save me if you can."-Your situation, Sir, is such, that it is not in mine, or any other man's art to save you; and I think I should not do my duty if I gave you any false hope in these moments, which, if I am not mistaken, will not more than suffice to settle any worldly or other concerns which you may have upon your mind." My mind is full of horror," cried the dying man," and I am incapable of preparing it for death."-He now fell into an agony, accompanied with a shower of tears; a cordial was administered, and he revived in a degree; when turning to the physician, who had his fingers upon his pulse, he eagerly demanded of him, if he did not see that blood upon the feet curtains of his bed. There was none to be seen; the physician assured him, it was nothing but the vapour of his fancy." I see it plainly," said ANTITHEUS, "in the shape of a human hand: I have been visited with a tremendous apparition. As I was lying sleepless in my bed this night, I took up a letter of a deceased friend to dissipate certain thoughts which made me uneasy. I believed him to be a great philosopher, and was converted to his opinions: persuaded by his arguments and my own experience, that the disorderly affairs of this evil world could not be administered

E

by any wise, just, or provident being; I had brought myself to think no such being could exist, and that a life, produced by chance, must terminate in annihilation. This is the reasoning of that letter, and such were the thoughts I was revolving in my mind, when the apparition of my dear friend presented itself before me; and unfolding the curtains of my bed, stood at my feet, looking earnestly upon me for a considerable space of time. My heart sunk within me; for his face was ghastly, full of horror, with an expression of such anguish as I can never describe. His eyes were fixed upon me, and at length, with a mournful motion of his head-Alas, alas! he cried, we are in a fatal. error! and taking hold of the curtains with his hand, shook them violently and disappeared.-This, I protest to you, I both saw and heard; and look! where the print of his hand is left in blood upon the curtains!"

ANTITHEUS survived the relation of this vision very few hours, and died delirious in great agonies.

What a forsaken and disconsolate creature is man without his GOD and SAVIOUR!

12. ROUSSEAU has the honour of the second place in the French Pantheon. He was born at Geneva; and, at a proper age, was bound an apprentice to an artist. During his apprenticeship he frequently robbed his master as well as other persons. Before his time was expired he decamped, and fled into the dominions of the king of Sardinia, where he changed his religion and became a Catholic. By an unexpected turn of fortune he became a footman; in which capacity he forgot not his old habit of stealing. He is detected with the stolen goods; swears they were given him by a maid servant of the house. The girl, being confronted with him, denies the fact, and, weeping, presses him to confess the truth; but the young philosopher still persists in the lie, and the poor girl is driven from her place in disgrace.

Tired of being a serving man, he went to throw himself on the protection of a lady, whom he had seen once before, and who, he protests, was the most virtuous creature of her sex. The lady had so great a regard for him that she called him her little darling, and he called her mamma. Mamma had a footman, who served her besides, in another capacity, very much resembling that of a husband; but she had a most tender affection for her adopted. son ROUSSEAU; and, as she feared

he was forming connections with a certain lady who migh spoil his morals, she herself out of pure virtue took him-to bed with her!-This virtuous effort to preserve the purity of ROUSSEAU'S heart had a dreadful effect on the poor footman, and so he poisoned himself.-ROUSSEAU fell sick, and mamma was obliged to part with little darling, while he performed a journey to the south of France, for the recovery of his health. On the road he dines with a gentleman, and lies with his wife. As he was returning back, he debated with himself whether he should pay this lady a second visit or not: but, fearing he might be tempted to seduce her daughter also, virtue got the better, and determined the little darling to fly home into the arms of his mamma; but, alas! those arms were filled with another. Mamma's virtue had prompted her to take a substitute, whom she liked too well to part with, and our philosopher was obliged to shift for himself. The reader should be told, that the little darling, while he resided with his mamma, went to make a tour with a young musician. Their friendship was warm, like that of most young men, and they were besides enjoined to take particular care of each other during their travels. They went on for some time together, agreed perfectly well, and vowed an everlasting friendship for each other. But the musician, being one day taken in a fit, fell down in the street, which furnished the faithful ROUSSEAU with an opportunity of slipping off with some of his things, and leaving him to the mercy of the people, in a town where he was a total stranger.

We seldom meet with so much villainy as this in a youth. His manhood however was worthy of it. He turned apostate a second time, was driven from within the walls of his native city of GENEVA, as an incendiary, and an apostle of anarchy and infidelity; nor did he forget how to thieve. At last the philosopher marries; but like a philosopher; that is, without going to church. He has a family of children, and like a kind philosophical father, for fear they should want after his death, he sends them tothe poor-house during his life-time!-To conclude, the philosopher dies, and leaves the philosopheress, his wife, to the protection of a friend; she marries a footman, and gets turned into the street.

This vile wretch has the impudence to say, in the work written by himself, which contains a confession of these his