some sick persons; and the day following I was seized with a sharp pleuritic pain in my side. However, as it was lecture night, I was obliged to preach, which I got through with much pain and some difficulty, but was then constrained to give up. Still I believe my confinement would have been much shorter, had not persons continued to come and converse with me, who were under concern. I could not find it in my heart to send them away, and the temporary exhilaration of spirits which the sight of them gave me, prevented me from finding out at first how much talking injured me, so that for a long time I lost ground much faster than I gained. But the sun seems to be a physician superior to all the doctors, and his warm beams, under God, have in a good measure restored me.

'If your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to your own request, without which I should not have said a syllable on the subject.'

6

The inflammation,' he observes in another letter, was brought on by speaking in hot rooms and then going out into the cold evening air.' His illness proved on the whole a serious one, and he was obliged not only to suspend preaching, but to leave the scene of his labours before he could obtain relief. On the 27th of April he set out for his father's house, to try the effect of a journey and a country residence on his health. In crossing a stream, whose bridge had been carried away, he was thrown from his horse, and got thoroughly wet, so that he could proceed no further.' The next day, ' after riding about ten miles, he was seized with the symptoms of a violent fever, and obliged to stop, and take to his bed.' The third day he pursued his journey moderately, but in much pain and weakness, fearing that his lungs had been much injured by his late accident. Before the night of the fourth day, he was extremely exhausted.'' Find that a fever comes on at night, and goes off with sweats

in the morning.' The next day was the Sabbath, which he spent in Milford, weak in body and mind. After meeting, which he attended both parts of the day, had some conversation with a universalist, but to little purpose.' 'May 2. Reached home, and was most kindly received. After the flow of spirits occasioned by seeing friends, was over, found myself exhausted with my journey.'

For several days after his arrival he grew worse, till he lost all strength and appetite,' and was taken with a hectic fever, attended with night sweats and some cough. He gave up all hope of recovering, and felt willing to die; had not a murmuring thought.'

CHAPTER IX.

Resumes his pastoral labours-letters-review of the year.

MR. PAYSON's absence from his people was prolonged to a period of more than two months. During this time, he underwent much bodily suffering; but his resignation, and his demeanour generally, were such as become a man professing godliness. He obtained no relief, till near the close of this period, when he repaired to Boston for medical advice, by which he was encouraged to hope that he might again engage in preaching the gospel. His church observed a day of fasting and prayer on his account during his absence. He set out on his return to them, July 4th, not without 'gloomy melancholy fears. The work appeared great, the obstacles insurmountable, and his strength nothing.' Most of the information, which could be collected respecting his circumstances for several succeeding months, is contained in letters, written to his parents and sister.

Portland, Wednesday Evening, July 6, 1808.

My dearest Parents,

'When you see where and when this letter is dated, you will, I fear, be ready to exclaim, 'Imprudent boy! why will he not learn wisdom by experience?' But when you hear that no ill consequences have resulted from my haste, you will, I hope, pardon me. The truth is, when I got beyond the reach of the attraction of Rindge, which was not very soon, Portland began to draw with

such irresistible force, that I found there would be no peace for me till I reached it. So, maugre my lame horse, who grew lamer and lamer every hour, I pressed on, and arrived here about six this afternoon. How it will be to-morrow, I cannot tell; but, at present, I am perfectly well, and never was less fatigued by a journey in my life. Mr. K. is out of town, attending an association, and my host with his wife are absent on a visit, so as yet I have seen nobody.

Thursday Morning.

The crowd of anxious and interesting thoughts which engaged my mind on my return would not suffer me to rest much last night, and of course I feel rather languid this morning. Still, however, I never felt less inconvenience from such a journey. Mr. K. has just left me. He gives a discouraging account of the situation of religion. Several, whose convictions appeared to be of the right kind, have apparently lost them, and a general coldness seems to be prevailing.

Thursday Night.

'Perhaps you saw lately an account of a man who was tried here for murder. He was found guilty, and is now in the condemned hole. I went this afternoon to visit him, and was greatly shocked and afflicted by a view of the bolts, chains, and other guards against escape. The entrance to his dungeon was by a small square hole, through which I could but just crawl by stooping double, and it was secured by a very thick door of solid iron. It was, however, sufficiently light, sweet, and free from dampness. The criminal is a young, stout, welllooking man, as far removed as possible from the idea one is ready to form of a murderer. He said he felt guilty and self-condemned before God, and felt the need of a Saviour, and of a new heart, but knew not how to procure either of them. But he said this in a cold unfeeling way. I shall see him again soon, for my own

sake, as well as for his. It is well calculated to make one admire and adore distinguishing grace, which has kept us from the same crimes, to see a man in the flower of life, shut up in a small dungeon, never to go out till he goes to a violent and ignominious death.- In the evening I went to the meeting of those under concern. This is still kept up, though very few attend, and they seem little engaged.

Friday.

'I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was not a very favourable time, but I feel better for it, and shall repeat it daily. I have spent some time in going round among the people. They appear glad to see me; but, alas, I fear there are no hopes of any further reformation at present. Many whom I left under deep concern, have lost all their impressions; others are cold; Christians seem to be discouraged. Though I expected this, it is almost too much for me to bear. I am dispirited and dejected; my very soul sickens and shrinks back from what is before me. Weakened by sickness, my mind seems to have lost, at once, all faith and fortitude. I have no assistance in writing. My ideas are all confused. I seem to have no power to get hold of people's consciences, but as somebody expresses it, my intellects have got mittens on.'

Sunday Evening.

'I preached to-day, and felt pretty much as I expected. No life, the people stupid. I shall get hardened to these things soon; but at present, they are distressing indeed. But though I am perplexed, I am not utterly in despair; though cast down, I am not destroyed. Somehow or other I shall be carried through. As to my health, I have little leisure to think of it amidst the more interesting things which oppress me. I believe, however, I shall suffer but little inconvenience from speaking to-day.'