the prospect of death before him, and that he dreaded to meet his Saviour. I could not but be astonished at such a declaration, and advised him, as I had done before, to reflect on the course of his life, and the services which he had rendered to the cause of religion and virtue, as well by his example as his writings; to which he answered, that he had written as a philosopher, but had not lived like one. In the estimation of his offences he reasoned thus; Every man knows his own sins, and what grace he has resisted. But to those of others, and the circumstances under which they were committed, he is a stranger. He is, therefore, to look on himself as the greatest sinner that he knows of.' At the conclusion of this argument, which he strongly enforced, he uttered this passionate exclamation :-Shall I, who have been a teacher of others, be myself a cast-away?"

Dr. Johnson seems to have retained, till near the close of his life, his earlier notions of expiation for sin on the part of the sinner, by the performance of an equivalent quantity of good works. It was on this ground that he once said to a friend who was endeavoring to comfort him by reasoning so little evangelical, "admitting for a moment that all you say is true, yet how can I tell whether I have done enough?" He felt that here was a weakness in the argument, an important defect in the principle of the consolation. He therefore refused to be comforted by the ordinary topics of conversation which were proposed to him; and, in consequence, desired to see some clergyman, and described the views and character of the person he wished to consult. A Mr. Winstanley was mentioned, as exactly answering to his wishes; and the Doctor desired a note to be written in his name, earnestly requesting his attendance as a minister. Mr. Winstanley, who was in a most debilitated state of nerves, was overpowered at receiving the note, and was appalled at the thought of encountering the learning and talents of the Doctor; being wholly unaware of the meekness with which his heart was prepared to receive the words of salvation. In his perplexity, he consulted with his friend, Colonel Pownal, who urged him without delay to follow what appeared such a remarkable call of Providence. For a time, his nervous apprehensions seemed to give way; but they soon returned; and, abandoning all

thoughts of a personal interview, he determined on writing the following letter:

"DEAR SIR,-I beg to acknowledge the honor of your note. I am sorry that the state of my health prevents a compliance with your request. My nerves are in so shattered a state, I feel as if I should be confounded in your presence; and instead of promoting, should only injure, the cause in which you seek my aid; therefore, permit me to write what I should wish to say, were I present. I can conceive what must be the subject of your inquiries; your views of yourself may be changed with your condition; and that in the near approach of death, what you considered mere peccadilloes, have risen into mountains of guilt; while your best actions have, in your esteem, dwindled into nothing. Whatever side you look at, you only see positive transgression, or defective obedience and hence, in self-despair, you may be inquiring, what shall I do to be saved?' I say to you in the language of the Baptist, Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world!'

"When Sir John Hawkins came to this part of Mr. W.'s letter, the Doctor interrupted him, anxiously asking him, 'Does he say so? Read it again, Sir John.' Sir John complied; upon which the Doctor said, 'I must see that man; write again to him!' A second note was accordingly sent; but even this repeated solicitation could not prevail over Mr. Winstanley's fears. He was led, however, by it, to write again to the Doctor, renewing and enlarging upon the subject of his first letter; and these communications, together with the conversations of the late Mr. Latrobe, who was a particular friend of Dr. Johnson, appeared to have been blessed by God in bringing this great man to the renunciation of self, and a simple reliance on Jesus as his Saviour; thus also communicating to him that peace which he had found the world could not give, and which, when the world was fading from his view, was to fill the void, and dissipate the gloom even of the valley of the shadow of death."

The remainder of the narrative, which needs the preceding statements in order to a complete understanding of it, is furnished by Boswell. "Dr. Brocklesby," he says,

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"who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me with the following account. 'For some time before his death, all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and propitiation of Jesus Christ. He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the sacrifice of Jesus, as necessary, beyond all good works whatever, for the salvation of mankind.""

It cannot be denied that men often think of religion and of fitness for death, when they come to the close of life, otherwise than in their days of health. Eternity casts its light over into this world. Its illumination is perceived through the chinks by which the soul is to escape from the body. This is clearly shown in the narrative of Dr. Johnson.

"Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die."

" in

We have been impressed with the truth of this statement, in the case of Paine, the miserable infidel. Often, for a long time together, when he was on his death-bed, he would exclaim, "O Lord, help me, O Christ, help me, O Christ, help me!" Notwithstanding his vain boasts, he met death with terror and consternation. He urged a young woman who had read his " Age of Reason early life, to tell him what she thought of it. After some hesitation, she answered that she thought it the most dangerous book she had ever seen, saying also that she burned it. He replied that he wished all its readers had been as wise as she, adding, "if ever the devil had an agent on earth, I have been one!" Philip, of Spain, ou his death-bed, was greatly anxious for his salvation. As a curious instance of a mercantile spirit in moral things, we give a copy of the proposal, which he sent to his confessor a few days before he died: "Father confessor, as you occupy the place of God, I protest to you that I will do every thing you shall say to be necessary for my being saved; so that what I omit doing will be placed to your account, as I am ready to acquit myself of all that shall be ordered."

It is natural that we should cleave to life. The instinct of self-preservation, implanted in us for the wisest pur

poses, prompts all men to desire and to labor after continued existence. On this account, some have deemed it preposterous to assert that any have sincerely desired to die, unless they were driven into that preference by agonizing pain or the bitterest disappointments. In our judgment, however, it is not altogether unnatural or unphilosophical. A Christian mind could easily see so much to be admired in the heavenly mansions, as would eclipse all the attractions of the world. To him who appreciates the glories of immortality, the splendors of time are of little worth. Thus it was that St. Paul spoke of his "having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better;" and again, in the same spirit, "to die is gain." Thus also the extatic anticipations of the martyr Stephen communicated to his countenance such a calm, sublime repose and sweet, seraphic dignity, that "all that sat in the council" where he was tried for his life, "looking steadfastly on him, saw his face, as it had been the face of an angel." A man who cannot conceive of death as an object of desire, has never yet fully studied the nature and the power of Christianity.

Yet death is not to be lightly thought of, nor hastily desired and sought. "It is a serious thing," in the words of the trite proverb, "to exchange worlds." We ought, therefore, patiently to await the appointed time, to pursue diligently the duties of our calling till the summons comes, and to adorn life with noble deeds and with a pious spirit.

ARTICLE VI.

REMARKS UPON AN INTELLIGENT ADHERENCE TO THE GOSPEL.

WE start with the proposition that all are bound to study and understand the gospel.

The Bible deals with every intelligent being as with a responsible agent, at once able and free to choose or neglect its truths and bide the consequences. "Choose ye this day whom ye will serve," is the language of the Old Testament; and "search the Scriptures," and "take heed how ye hear," is the language of the New Testament. And is there nothing in our moral and intellectual natures, which commands us, almost as audibly as the Bible can, "try the spirits and see whether they be of God?" Indeed, all this is so obvious that to argue it would seem like trifling with our readers, and we pass on. The character of the times upon which we have fallen demands also that we study and understand the gospel. The world, since the fall, has been a combination of good and evil. We live in the midst of much light and much darkness, much truth and much error. The number of injudicious speculators in religion, "who think themselves to be something when they are nothing," whose great aim is to palm off upon the people a worthless theory as truth, is very large, and without intelligence we become their dupes. And here again we surely need not dwell; what security have we, but in an intelligent study of truth?

It is equally plain that the study of the truth should be attended with devout, sincere prayer, that the student may be enlightened. How anxiously should we bow before the throne of God, our Bibles open and our desires ascending to heaven, that "we may know the truth and that it may make us free" from all delusions. To whom else can we go, with any certainty of being effectually enlightened?

Though all this is so fundamental, and so important,