These sayings, sir, may appear harsh; but they are salutary. And if departed spirits have any knowledge of what is passing upon earth, that person will be regarded by your friend as rendering him the greatest service, who, by energy of expression, and warmth of exhortation, shall most contribute to prevent his writings from producing these effects upon mankind, which he no longer wishes they should pro

duce.

By way of contrast to the behaviour of Mr. Hume at the close of a life, passed without God in the world, permit me, sir, to lay before you, the last sentiments of the truly learned, judicious, and admirable Hooker, who had spent his days in the service of his Maker and Redeemer.

near.

After this manner spoke the author of the "Ecclesiastical Polity," immediately before he expired: “I have lived to see, that this world is made up of pertur bations; and I have been long preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort for the awful hour of making iny account with God, which I now apprehend to be And though I have, by his grace, loved him in my youth, and feared him in my age, and laboured to have a conscience void of offence, towards him, and towards all men; yet,-if thou Lord! shouldst be extreme to mark what we have done amiss, who can abide it? And, therefore, where I have failed, Lord, show mercy to me; for I plead not my righteousness, but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness, through His merits wo died to purchase pardon for penitent sinners. And since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time; I submit to it. Let not mine, O Lord, but thy will be done!God hath heard my daily petitions; for I am at peace with all men, and he is at peace with me. From such blessed assurance, I feel that inward joy which the world can neither give, nor take from me. My conscience bears me this witness; and this witness makes the thoughts of death joyful. I could wish to live, to do

e church more service: but I cannot hope it; for my ays are passed, as a shadow that returns not." Iore he would have spoken, but his spirits failed him ; nd, after a short conflict between nature and death, quiet sigh put a period to his last breath.

Doctor Smith, when the hour of his departure hence hall arrive, will copy the example of the believer, or f the infidel, as he pleases. I must freely own, I have o opinion of that reader's head, or heart, who will ot exclaim, as I find myself obliged to do: "Let me ie the death of the righteous, and let my last end be ike his!"

I am, sir,

Your sincere well-wisher, &c.

LETTER II.

From a young lady under great. affliction,* to Dr.

My dear sir,

With a heart almost broken with grief, I am going, I fear, to trouble you by pouring it forth. I have lost my father, my best friend, and every thing that was most valuable to me in the world! Perhaps, ere this, the melancholy tidings have reached your

ears.

On Saturday morning last, he yielded his soul into the hands of his Maker. 0, sir! paint to your imagination the wo and distraction that entered his house, in the moment of his dissolution! Had you heard the piercing cries that were uttered,—But what do I say? God forbid that your tender, your most affectionate heart, should have been a witness of the scene!

The writer of this letter was an elegant and accomplished young lady of the first distinction in Ireland, who had not completed her seventeenth year at the time of her father's death.

:

I was hardly able to bear the thoughts of surviving him but, thank God, I am in some degree composed. I most earnestly repent of my sin, in forgetting for a moment that from His hand I receive good, and why not evil when he thinks fit?

Pray, sir, pardon the liberty I have taken in writing to you; but allow me to apologize in some measure, by telling you, that the day before my dearest father grew ill, he desired me to write; as, you may remember, he owed you a letter. "Perhaps," said he smiling, "it will please the dear doctor."

You will, no doubt, wonder what could take him off so suddenly. It was a disorder in the brain; not water, but something occasioned by a fulness in the head. He died on the sixth day after he was seized. The day he was first affected, he came down to breakfast; but, alas! he had totally lost his senses. Think what

I must have felt! The physicians all agreed, and thought till the very last, that his bodily ailments were not fatal, but that his understanding was gone for ever. Was it not a blessing then that God did not ordain him to outlive himself? I have been since thinking that I was permitted to see him in that most melancholy state, to fill my heart with this subject of thankfulness.

And let me cast my thoughts on that most amazing and blessed change he has undergone, from a world of pains and vexations at best, to join that blessed spirit, my dearest mother, and make one of the angelic choir that cease not, day and night, to sing hallelujahs. How this idea transports me from the world! God grant it may influence my life; that, when I come to die, it may be the death of the righteous, which is only to be attained by living their life!

Will you be so kind as to present my most affectionate respects to Mrs. Horne and your daughters? You will break these most dismal tidings to them; I am sure they will sympathise in my affliction.

I flatter myself that you will favour me with a line. What consolation must flow from your pen! And suffer me to assure you, that, next to the dear parent who is laid in the dust, I have reverenced, loved, and honoured you. If you can pardon me for thus troubling you, and you should wish to hear now and then how the mourners at go on, I shall have much plea

sure in letting you know.

My poor brother is most deeply afflicted. My happiness must now, in a great measure, rest upon his good conduct; and I think he will not disappoint me: thus, as one prop is withdrawn, the heart of man fondely clings to another.

Mrs. is getting much better. Ever since we I came home this year, we have been in daily expectation of her decease. What an amazement it is to her to find herself alive, surviving my father! She bears ait like a Christian; and says, she needs not take her leave so soon to follow.

Farewell, most honoured sir! Believe me

Your most dutiful, most afflicted servant.

LETTER III.

Dr. Horne's answer to the preceding letter.

My dear madam,

Canterbury, Nov. 11.

Little did I think that a letter from

would afflict my soul; but yours received this morning has indeed done it. Seeing your hand, and a black seal, my mind foreboded what had happened. I made an attempt to read it to my wife and daughters; but-it would not do-I got no further than the first sentence; but burst into a flood of tears, and was obliged to retreat into the solitude of my study, unfit for any thing, but to think on what had happened; then to fall upon my knees, and pray, that GoD would pour down his choicest blessings on the children of my

T

departed friend, and, as their father and their mother had forsaken them," that HE would take them up," and support them in time and eternity.

You ask comfort of me: but your truly excellent letter has suggested comfort to me, from all the proper topics; and I can only reflect it back to you. All things considered, the circumstance which first marke ed the disorder may be termed a gracious dispensation. It at once rendered the event, one may say, desirable, which other wise carried, in the face of it, so much terror and sorrow. Nothing else in the world could so soon, and so effectually, have blunted the edge of the approaching calamity, and reconciled to it minds full of the tenderest love and affection. To complete the only consolation that remained, which we all know to be the fact, Mr. stood always so prepared, so firm in his faith, so constant in his Christian practice of every duty, that he could not be taken by surprise, or off his guard: the stroke must be to himself a blessing, whenever, or however, it came. His death was his birthday; and, like the primitive Christians, we should keep it as such, as a day of joy and triumph. Bury his body; but embalm his example, and let it diffuse its fragrance among you from generation tʊ generation. Call him blessed, and endeavour to be like him, in piety, in charity, in friendship, in courteousness, in temper, in conduct, in word, and in deed. His virtues compose a little volume, which your brother should carry in his bosom; and he will need no other, if that be well studied, to make him the gentleman and the Christian. You, my dear madam, will, I am sure, go on with diligence to finish the fair transscript you have begun.

Do not apologize for writing; but let me hear what you do, and what plan of life your brother thinks of pursuing. With kindest compliments from the sympathizing folks here, believe me ever, my dear madam, Your faithful friend and servant,

GEORGE HORNE.