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TO RICHARD NASH, ESQ. AT BATH.

no;

SIR,

THIS comes from your sincere friend, and one that has your best interest deeply at heart: it comes on a design altogether important, and of no less consequence than your everlasting happiness; so that it may justly challenge your careful regard. It is not to upbraid or reproach, much less to triumph and insult over your misconduct; it is pure benevolence, it is disinterested good-will prompts me to write; so that I hope I shall not raise your resentment. However, be the issue what it will, I cannot bear to see you walk in the paths which lead to death, without warning you of your danger, without sounding in your ears the awful admonition. "Return and live;-for why will you die?" I beg you to consider whether you do not, in some measure, resemble those unhappy children of ELI, whom, though they were famous in their generation, and men of renown, yet vengeance suffered not to live.

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For my part, I may safely use the expostulation of the old priest;-" Why do you such things? for I hear of your evil dealings by all this people. Nay, my brother, for it is no good report I hear; you make the Lord's people to transgress." I have long observed and pitied you; and a most melancholy spectacle I lately beheld, made me resolve to caution you, lest you also come into the same condemnation.

I was not long since called to visit a poor gentleman, ere while of the most robust body, and of the 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 chastising 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

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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 holy religion which he had formerly so slightly esteemed; he replied (with a hasty eagerness), Oh that religion 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 have lived in the practice of 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

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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 account 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 ten thousands of gold and silver.-But alas, why do I amuse myself with fond imagination! 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 #rembling are come upon me: I smart, I am in

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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 my eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with my ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb. The poor breathless skeleton spoke in such an accent, and with so much earnestness, that I could not easily forget him or his words. And as I was musing upon this sorrowful subject, I remembered Mr. N--SH: I remembered you, Sir-for I discerned too near an agreement and correspondence between yourself and the deceased. "They are alike, (said I,) in their ways, and what shall hinder them from being alike in their end? The course of their actions was equally full of sin and folly, and why should not the period of them be equally full of horror and distress? I am grievously afraid for the survivor, lest as he lives the life, so he should die the death, of this wretched man, and his latter end should be like his."

For this cause, therefore, I take my pen to