had bled at the nose, on which he said, "I shall not now let blood to divert this: that will be done to-morrow." And when it rained hard that night, he said, "Such a rain to-morrow wilk spoil a great show, which is a dull thing on a rainy day."

Before his wife left him, he took her by the hand, and said, "This flesh you now feel, in a few hours, must be cold." At ten o'clock she left him. He kissed her four or five times; and she so governed her sorrow, as not to add, by the sight of her distress, to the pain of separation. Thus they parted; not with sobs and tears, but with a composed silence; the wife wishing to spare the feelings of the husband, and the husband of the wife, they both restrained the expression of a grief too great to be relieved by utterance."

When she was gone, he said, "Now the bitterness of death is past." And he then ran out into a long discourse concerning her, saying, how great a blessing she had been to him, and what a misery it would have been to him, if she had not had that magnanimity of spirit, joined to her tenderness, as never to have desired him to do a base thing to save his life. Whereas, what a week he should have passed, if she had been crying on him to turn informer, and to be a Lord Howard! He then repeated to Dr. Bur

net, what he had often before said, that he knew of nothing whereby the peace of the nation was in danger; and that all that ever was, was either loose discourse, or, at most, embryos that never came to any thing; so there was nothing on foot, to his knowledge. He then returned to speak of his wife. He said there was a signal providence of God in giving him such a wife, where there was birth, fortune, great understanding, great religion, and great kindness to him; but her carriage in his extremity was beyond all. He said that he was glad that she and his children were to lose nothing by his death; and it was great comfort to him that he left his children in such a mother's hands, and that she had promised him to take care of herself for their sakes. Then he spoke of his own situation, and said, how great a change death made, and how wonderfully those new scenes would strike on a soul. He had heard how some that had been born blind, were struck, when, by the couching of their cataracts, they saw; but what, he said, if the first thing they saw were the sun rising ?

His servant requested he might sit up in his chamber while he slept. This he refused, and was locked up between eleven and twelve, leaving orders to be called at four. When his servant came at that hour, he found

him as sound

asleep as at any time in his life.

he asked what o'clock it was;

As he awoke,

but whilst his

He

servant was preparing his things for him to dress, he fell asleep again. Dr. Burnet coming in woke him, saying, What, my lord! asleep?” "Yes, Doctor," he said; "I have slept heartily since one o'clock." He then desired him to go to his wife, to say that he was well, and had slept well, and hoped she had done so. He remembered himself kindly to her, and prayed for her. He dressed himself with the same care as usual; and said, he thanked God he felt no sort of fear or hurry in his thoughts. prayed several times with Dr. Burnet, and afterwards with Dean Tillotson; and, at intervals, went into his chamber, and prayed by himself. Once he came out, and said he had been much inspired in his last prayer, and wished he could have written it down and sent it to his wife. He gave Dr. Burnet several commissions to his relations; but none more earnest than to one of them, against all revenge for what had been done to himself: he told Burnet he was to give him his watch; and as he wound it up, he said, "I have done with time: now eternity comes."

About half an hour before he was called on by the sheriffs, he took Dr. Burnet aside, and said that he meant to say something of the

dangers of Slavery as well as Popery; but on Dr. Burnet's telling him it would look like resentment, and begging him to let it alone, he smiled, and said he would do so.

As he came down, he met Lord Cavendish, and took leave of him; but remembering something of importance, he went back to him, and spoke to him with great earnestness. He pressed him anxiously to apply himself more to religion; and told him what great comfort and support he felt from it now in his extremity. Such was his last advice and farewell to his dearest friend. He went into his coach with great cheerfulness. Dr. Tillotson and Dr. Burnet accompanied him. As they were going, he looked about him, and knew several persons. Some he saw staring on him, who knew him, and did not put off their hats. He said, there was great joy in some, but that did not touch him so much as the tears he observed in the eyes of others; for that, he said, made him tender. He He sung within himself as he went along; and Dr. Burnet asking him what he was singing, he said it was the 119th psalm; but he should sing better very soon. As the carriage turned into Little Queen Street, he said, "I have often turned to the other hand with great comfort, but now I turn to this with greater." As he said this, he looked to

wards his own house, and Dr. Tillotson saw a tear drop from his eye.

2

Just as they were entering Lincoln's-InnFields, he said, "This has been to me a place of sinning, and God now makes it the place of my punishment." He wondered to see so great a crowd assembled. He had before observed, that it rained, and said to his companions, "This rain may do you hurt that are bare-headed."

After all was quiet, he spoke to the sheriff as follows:

"Gentlemen*,

"I expected the noise would be such, that I should not be very well heard. I was never fond of much speaking, much less now; there. fore I have set down in this paper all that I think fit to leave behind me. God knows how far I was always from designs against the King's person, or of altering the government. And I still pray for the preservation of both, and of the Protestant religion. Mr. Sheriff, I am told, that Captain Walcot yesterday said some things

* The night before he died, he thought of the short speech he was to make on the scaffold. Instead of beginning, "Mr. Sheriff," he resolved to begin, "Gentlemen;" because, he said, he was not truly sheriff. He accordingly did so; but he did not think it worth while to make the same alteration in the paper that was to be printed,-Burnet, MSS,