ing more intensity of expression, he added, with increased energy, 'But the most terrible thing to reflect on is, that I have not only ruined myself, but have been the cause of leading others to ruin. Oh, I am sure that the everlasting execration of ruined souls must follow me into eternity! Oh that I had never been born, or had sunk in death upon my mother's arms!'

"I here endeavoured to cast oil upon the rising waves of emotion, and to calm his tempestuous spirit, by reminding him of the great mercy and forgiveness there is in God. 'No,' replied he, 'not for me: I cannot be forgiven, and I cannot repent. My day of grace is all over. But I feel greatly relieved since I have told you my story. I am glad you came, sir. Wretched as I am, this is the best moment I have seen for a long time. I have hitherto kept all this to myself, it has been as a fire shut up in my breast. I have not known one hour of peace since I left the paths of virtue; and for two or three years I have been perfectly wretched. I have often been upon the point of committing suicide.'

"After a few words intended to direct his mind to the source of hope, I left him, promising to see him again the next morning, if he should survive till then. He did survive-the morning came; but it was no morning to him. The sweet rays of the rising sun shot no kindling gleam of hope into his dark and troubled soul. I had hoped, I had almost expected, to find it otherwise.

"I have somewhat doubted in regard to the expediency of relating his expressions the next morning, but as I have undertaken to report the facts as they were, I do not know that I should do right to withhold a part of them; especially as he not only permitted but requested me to admonish all others by his example, if peradventure he might serve as a beacon to warn them off from the vortex into which he had been drawn. He had no longer any wish to conceal any thing; he seemed rather to wish to proclaim his wretchedness to the world. He was dead to hope and alive to despair. With recollections of his past life, an awakened conscience, eternity full in view but a step before him, and every gleam of hope excluded,—oh, it was indeed a painful illustration of the inspired truth, that 'some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment.'

"The following conversation took place on the occasion now referred to:-

"How do you do, my friend, this morning?' "As miserable as sin and wrath can make me!'

"This he said with an emphasis, which surprised and startled me.

"And did you obtain no rest last night?"

"Not a moment's rest; my soul has been in perfect misery.'

"But you are excited; your body is diseased, and your mind is weak and morbid. You ought to endeavour to compose yourself to rest, to be

come calm, and to look to that source of forgiveness and mercy which is still open to you, if you repent and believe.'

"No, no, it is impossible! I cannot compose myself, I cannot be calm. My body is well enough, but my soul has been in hell all night! I have denied that there is a hell: I have scoffed at it; I have induced others to do the same, and now God is convincing me of my error. Oh, I know now that there is a hell; I feel it in my own spirit. I am glad that you have come to see me, that I may tell you how miserable I am. This is the only relief I can get. You are the first person to whom I have ventured to make known my misery. I have for a long time kept it to myself; but I can no longer conceal it.’

"It is well for you to acknowledge your sins. But you should confess them to God, as well as to your fellow-men. He has said, 'Acknowledge thy transgressions;' and moreover, 'He that confesseth and forsaketh his sins, shall find mercy.'

"No, no, I cannot approach God-I cannot meet him-I cannot! Oh that the same grave which will soon bury my body, could bury my soul with it. Oh that I might be annihilated! This is what I have long hoped for and expected; but this hope has failed me. I never before realized the meaning of that Scripture, 'When a wicked man dieth his expectations shall perish.' All my expectations have perished. I have been for some time reviewing my past life, and during the last

night, that passage kept passing like a burning ar row through my spirit, Rejoice, O young man in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.' Yes, I have walked in the way of my heart, and in the sight of my eyes; and now God is bringing me into judgment. The arrows of the Almighty are within me, the poison whereof drinketh up my spirit. You can pray for me; but it is of no use. You are very kind; the family here are very kind; I thank you all; but you cannot save me. My soul is damned!-the seal of reprobation is already upon me!'

"These last were precisely his words; and they were uttered with a pathos, a sort of calm, fixed, significant earnestness, which almost overcame us. I can never forget his expression, when he fixed his dark, restless, glassy eyes upon us, and uttered these last words. Perceiving it in vain to say any thing more to him while in that state, we withdrew, that he might, if possible, be composed to rest.'

"The next day I called again to see him, and found him dying. His power of utterance had almost failed. I took hold of his hand, and told him it would afford us great relief to know that he left the world reconciled to God, and trusting in the Saviour's grace. His only reply was, and they were the last words I heard him utter, 'If the

grave would bury my soul with my body, I should consider it my best friend; that would be immeasurably better for me than my present condition, or anything I have a right to expect.' After again commending him in a short prayer to the mercy of God, I was obliged to leave him. In about an hour afterward he died.

"The next day I attended his funeral. It was the most gloomy occasion to which I was ever summoned. Not a relative was present. Here was a young man, evidently of fine natural talents, who might have been a comfort to his parents, an ornament to society, and a blessing to mankind; who might have pursued a useful and happy life, and been raised to shine as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever-cut off from life and happiness and hope, when he had only reached his twenty-sixth year.

"And what had done this dreadful work of desolation? It was sin. These are thy doings, these thy triumphs, O thou enemy of God and man. Destruction and misery are thine. Thou hast converted a paradise into thorns and thistles; all that is most fair, lovely, and promising, it is thy delight to blast and destroy; that very earth which was pronounced 'good,' and which might have been peopled with the joys and praises of heaven, thou hast in all ages filled with weeping, lamentation, and wo. And yet will men call thee a pleasing trifle, invite thee to their bosoms, and love thee instead of God!