how truly worthy the Divine Lips that spoke it! If Benevolence is due to our Fellow-creatures in general, how much more fo is it to that Part of them, who are thus exiled from the Community, and for a Misfortune, perhaps, rather than a Fault, as is the Cafe of Numbers, doomed to a melancholy Gloom, fhut up with relentless Walls and Bars, without the Means to fupport even there the wretched Remains of Life!

-Take Phyfic, Pomp:

Expofe thyself, to feel what Wretches feel;
That thou may'ft shake the Superflux to them,
And fhew the Heaven's more juft.

SHAKESPEAR.

Oh! I have feen, and have fickened at the horrid Sight, Numbers of Wretches, capable of being useful, in the highest Degree, to the Public, fecluded from all the Privileges of Men and Chriftians, pale Famine wafting them away by flow Degrees, and grievous Oppreffion grinding them to Death! Thefe are the greater Number that fill our English Prifons, and every Minute, with bitter Anguish, curse the Hour they were born, and invoke an End of their wretched Beings. Let us look Abroad: Do Turks, or Infidels, thus treat their Debtors?—It is neceffary here, when the wife Hollanders, the Glory of Commerce, find it otherwife there, and every. Chriftian

D. 5

Chriftian Country feems to act by contrary Maxims? Oh! Britain! thou Land of Liberty !How canft thou view Difgrace like this, and fuffer many Thoufands to be torn from useful Labour, Arts, and Sciences, for Ills, the Lot of Human Race, or unwary Indifcretions! Lives there a Man' who, kindly fympathizing, pities Human Woes, who gives the quick Reliefs to wafting Sorrow! all humane, great, and good, the Pride, the Glory, of his native Country, who feels for fuffering Merit's deep Diftrefs! Lives there a Lyttleton, who foftly bends, and lends his ready Ear to every Tale big with Calamity! And are thefe Things still fo? Rife, Cornwall, Oglethorp, and all the generousBand of Patriot Souls, and fee Mankind redreffed!

Mr. Speculift, about this Time, was taken ill with a malignant Fever, which carried of a great Number of the Prisoners, and, before I heard of it, was out of all Hopes of Recovery. One Morning a Man, who waited upon him, came to tell me that Mr. Speculift wanted to have a little Conversation with me; at the fame Time letting me know that it was the first Interval of Reafon he had had for fome Time, having been conftantly delirious, ever fince the Distemper feized him. I made what Hafte I could, and found the poor Creature so changed, that he was hardly to be known; the Fire and Hautear of his Countenance, that Fierte, sʊ visible in

him, was now extinct, and he lay, with hollow Eyes, and pallid, meagre Face, gasping, as 'twere, for Breath. The Sight fhocked me; and notwithftanding all the former Reasons I had to be angry with him, I could hardly refrain from shedding Tears. He reached his feeble Hand, quite cold and clammy, to me, and begged me to fit down, for a few Minutes, which I did, and he thus addressed me:

Mr. Thompson, I fee you are touched to fee me thus; and you can't help making fome Reflections on the Difference between my former Appearance and my prefent. I fhall die,-of that I am affured; and all the Philosophy, I thought myself Master of, will not fupport my Spirits in this dreadful Moment! Oh! Time, how have I abufed you, and all the precious Gifts Providence has kindly beftowed upon me! Here a rending Sigh heaved his Breaft, and a Tear or two, all the Moisture left int his Brain, trickled down his withered Cheeks. Oh! my Friend, he continued, could I recal my Days again, I should, I think, despise and hate the odious Ways I have followed: How has Vanity, and a Defire of Applaufe, tempted me to dispute those Truths, which the Conviction of my Mind, per Force, would still make me only acknowledge! How have my Hours been spent, how idly, unprofitably, and how wickedly! and, alas! the Confequences

D 6

sequences are bitter Pangs, despairing Groans, and Fears of what may come hereafter; for,

If there is a Pow'r above us,

(And that there is all Nature cries aloud

Through all her Works) he muft delight in Virtuez And that which he delights in must be happy.

I would pray, but I am convinced my present Circumstances will be the Inducement; and I fear a Death-bed Repentance will be of no Avail! Oh! how extreme are my Tortures, and the Wounds

of my Confcience are not to be healed! Could I this Minute make Reparation for all the Injuftices, Cruelties and Wrongs, I have acted towards my Fellow-creatures, for I have been a most abandoned Monster of Vice, I fhould then, with fome Confidence, apply to the Throne of Grace, for Mercy in Time of Need; but alas! I am taken, as the Poet expreffes it, unnuzzled, disappointed; unanealed, with all my Crimes ftaring me full in the Face, and bearing me down to the Bottomlefs Pit, where fall be Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth. My Friend, take Warning by me, and never affront your good Senfe fo much, or the Sentiments of your Mind, as to join in Scenes of Riot and Debauchery, and run fuch bafe Lengths, for the Gratification of those Appetites and Paffions, which fhould conftantly be governed by Religion and Reason; then in the Hour when your Soul is feparating from its earthly Manfion,

Manfion, you may have the exceeding great Confolation of applying, by fuch Acts of Devotion as are the Manna of the Mind, to that God, who never forfakes thofe who love him, in the Time of their Tribulation; and not, like me, be doomed a Prey to Anguish, Fear, and Doubt, dreading, yet longing, to exift again, and loft in wild and endless Mazes of exploring Wretchedness! Here his Spirits would hold out no longer, and he felt into his usual Delirium, with such strong Convulfions, that I doubted not he was in his last Agonies. Poor unhappy Man! I wept at his Condition, and, by an unvoluntary Motion, fell on my Knees, at the Side of his Bed, and put up earneft Petitions for Mercy and Compaffion, from the offended Author of his Being, in Terms that surprised every body about us; and, before I rofe, he was no more? -but gave up the Ghoft, a placid Smile being vifible on his Countenance.

This was the End of poor Speculift, a Man, who, if he had rightly managed his great Talents, would have been a Bleffing to his Friends, and an Ornament to his Country; but over-bearing Vanity and Luft brought him thus to a gloomy Piifon, and, by an infectious Diftemper, caught there, to an untimely Grave! May that be the End of his Sufferings.

I had fulfilled near three Months in this Confinement, where every Thing confpired, with my Sorrows,