commenced it without delay: engaging himself to furnish one quarter of the original matter in every number. It was, however, apparent to his friends, and probably to himself, that unless he should succeed in gaining relief from the disease which hung about him, his constitution, strong and vigorous as it was, must in the end give way to such uninterrupted pain and suffering. His patience and fortitude, and even his cheerfulness, did not forsake him; but fearful inroads were daily making upon his strength. His mind did not lose its activity or its vigour; but his flesh and strength daily wasted so rapidly away, that it was not to be expected that he could survive many renewed attacks of the distress which his disease occasioned. He presided at the Commencement, in September, and performed the ordinary duties on that occasion.

In the six weeks vacation, his health appeared to amend: and he was able usually to attend church, and to wais out occasionally during the week. On the sixth of October, he preach 1 all day, and administered the sacrament in one of the churches in the town; and in the other, in the afternoon of the 13th, before the executive and the great part of the legislature of the state, he bore his public solemn testimony, in the delivery of the CXXI. sermon of the following series, against the unhallowed law authorizing di

vorces.

On the third of November, the second Sabbath in the term, he preached in the morning and administered the sacrament. Those who heard him will long recollect that his text was, Matt. v. 16. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaten. "It was his last sermon; and the administration of the Lord's supper, which followed it, his last public act as a minister of Christ.

"Although the paleness of his countenance flied every one with anxiety, it was observed." says Professor Shitman, that he uttered himself with his usual force and animation; and in performing the communion-service, he appeared much softened and affected; nor was he sensible of uncommon fatigue in consequence of so long a service.

"He began, as usual. to hear the senior class; and persevered, although often with extreme inconvenience, in hearing them at intervals. for three or four weeks. He often came into the recitationroom languid, and scarcely able to support imself expressing his intention to ask only a few questions, and then retire; but insensibly kindling with his subject, his physical system seemed temporarily excited by the action of his mind, and he would discourse with his usual eloquence and interest, and even throw a charm of sprightliness and brilliancy over his communications. He met the senior class, for the last time, on Wednesday, Nov. 27th. He caught cold, was worse from the exertion, and did not go out again. "He still continued to hear the theological class at his house. Their last recitation was only a week before his death; his suffer

ings were extreme; his debility scarcely permitted him to utter himself at all; but again his mind abstracted itself from its sympathy with an agonized frame; and in a discourse of one hour and a half on the doctrine of the Trinity, he reasoned and illustrated in the most cogent and interesting manner, and left an indelible impression on the minds of his pupils. It was his last effort in his delightful employment of instruction."

During his confinement, however, he was not idle; his mind was as active as when he was in sound health. Probably there are very few periods of his life, of the same length, in which he wrote more than from June to December.

He continued in this state of labour and suffering, until Tuesday the 7th of January. He had been recently afflicted by the death of his friends: the Rev. Nathan Strong, D. D. of Hartford, who was also his class-mate; and the Rev. Azel Backus, D. D. President of Hamilton College, in the state of New-York. Upon hearing of the death of Dr. Strong, he remarked, that the lights of his class were nearly extinguished; alluding to the death of that gentleman and those of the Rev. Charles Backus, of Somers, and the Rev. David Ely, D. D. of Huntington. With the latter gentleman, in addition to the friendship that had subsisted between them from their youth, he had been associated, with the utmost harmony, throughout the whole period of his presidency, as a member of the corporation of the College. On Tuesday the symptoms of his disease appeared more favourable than they had done at any time previous; and his family and physicians were led to entertain very strong hopes that it had passed its crisis, and was experiencing a happy change. On the following morning however, as he got out of bed, he was seized with a strong nervous affection, which shook his whole frame, and gave rise, in a short time, to the most alarming apprehensions. This paroxysm was succeeded by a high fever, and a constant propensity to drowsiness. When the physicians visited him at ten o'clock in the forenoon, they found it necessary to bleed him. He continued strongly affected by these various symptoms through the day. His pulse was quick, his face in some measure flushed, his brain in a considerable degree affected, and he felt a continued drowsiness, and, at times, severe turns of pain from his local disease. In the eve

ning he became more wakeful, and the severity of his distress increased. In order to relieve him from the pain, a moderate quantity of laudanum was administered. He did not converse much on Wednesday; his excess of suffering, with the affection of the brain, put it out of his power.

He was restless a considerable part of the night, but gained an hour or two of sleep, owing, probably, to the opiate which he had taken. On Thursday morning he got out of his bed, was dressed, and sat in his chair through the day. He was not so much inclined to drowsiness as on the preceding day; but frequently groaned

from extreme pain and distress, and did not enter much into conversation through the day. At the same time, he answered all questions put to him, with clearness and promptitude; inquired particularly of his friends and neighbours, as they called to see him, concerning their health and that of their families, and showed the same affectionate interest in their welfare, that he had uniformly manifested through life. At evening he attempted to make his usual family prayer, and proceeded for a few minutes with clearness and propriety; but a paroxysm of pain rendered him incapable of utterance, and he desisted. This was the last attempt he made to pray in the family.

Through Thursday night, he became more disturbed and distressed, resting but little; and in the morning it was apparent, from his symptoms, generally, and the change of his countenance and voice, that his end was rapidly approaching. From the great strength of his constitution, and the peculiar excitement of his nervous system caused by his disease, and perhaps, from the effect which it had produced upon his mind, it was apprehended by his family, that he was not aware of his approaching dissolution. The fact was, therefore, announced to him, accompanied with a suggestion, that if he had any wishes to express, or directions to give, with regard to his worldly concerns, it was to be feared that it was necessary to attend to the subject without delay. He received the intelligence with great calmness; and, as soon as his situation. would permit, proceeded to express his wishes on the subject. Under the paroxysms of pain, his mind was more prone to wander than it had been the two former days. It recurred, however, to a clear and unclouded state, when the paroxysm ceased. At short intervals through the day, when he was the most nearly free from pain, he conversed on various subjects in his usual manner. Subjects connected with the great object of his labours, his desires, and his prayers through life-the out-pouring of the Spirit of God, revivals of religion, the propagation of Christianity, and the dissemination of the Scriptures were not only near his heart, but, when mentioned, kindled his feelings and awakened his deA day or two previous to his being taken so unwell, he had received from the Rev. Dr. Marshman, at Serampore, a very elegant printed specimen of a Chinese translation of the Scriptures. On this subject, he was peculiarly interested, and expressed himself feelingly and with force, on the progress of evangelical truth among the heathen.

In the course of Friday evening, at his request, the eighth chapter of the epistle to the Romans was read to him. He listened to it with great attention, remarked upon a mistranslation in one or two places; spoke with much fervour of pious emotion on the subject of the chapter; and, at the close of it, exclaimed, "O, what a glorious apostrophe!" He also made a number of remarks on the opinions and sentiments of some of the English divines, particularly Clark and Waterland, on the doctrine of the Trinity.

The subject of his approaching dissolution was again introduced in the afternoon of that day. He said he was not aware that it was very near; that he had yet a great deal of strength; but still it might be so, as strong constitutions did sometimes suddenly give way. Upon being reminded that his religious friends would be gratified to learn his views and feelings at the prospect of death, he began to make some remarks upon the great and precious promises of the gospel, when he was seized with a paroxysm of distress, which prevented him from proceeding. A few hours before his death, the subject was, for the last time, mentioned. He appeared to comprehend the object in view; and, though he spoke with difficulty, he answered, with entire clearness, that in the extreme sickness with which he was visited in the spring, during some weeks of which he had no expectation of recovering, he had experienced more support and comfort from religion, and the promises of the gospel, than he had ever realized at any former period of his life. "Had I died then, (said he) that fact would doubtless have been considered as affording strong evidence of the sincerity and reality of my faith; but, as I recovered, it probably made but little impression." It was a sentiment often inculcated by him, that it was more safe to rely upon the tenor of a person's life, as evidence of the true state of his religious character, than upon declarations made upon a death-bed. In the above-mentioned remark, there is little reason to doubt that he alluded to that subject, and intended that it should apply to his former sentiments.

After this, he requested his brother to read to him the 17th of John. While listening to the latter verses of the chapter, he exclaimed, "O, what triumphant truths!" Afterwards the 14th, 15th, and 16th chapters were read to him. He listened attentively, and spoke with lively interest on various passages. His mind evidently wandered while the last chapter was reading, and it was not completed.

A few hours before his death, one of his friends observed to him, that he hoped he was able, in his present situation, to adopt the language of the Psalmist: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for THOU art with me-Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." He immediately replied, "I hope so." For several of his last hours, his organs of speech were so much affected, that it was with difficulty he could articulate distinctly. Many of his words could not be understood. There is, however, no doubt, that, during that period, his mind was unclouded, and his thoughts were fixed on death and heaven. He was occupied a great part of the time in speaking, sometimes in an audible voice, and sometimes in a whisper. Repeated instances occurred, in which his expressions were clearly understood. In all of them, his language was that of prayer and adoration. The belief that he was engaged in that delightful Christian duty was confirmed, by the peculiarly solemn and devotional expression of

his countenance. His eyes appeared to be fixed on that celestial world, whose gates, it is humbly trusted, were just opening to receive his departing spirit into the mansions of everlasting rest, prepared for him in his Father's house. That he enjoyed the use of his reason until a short time before his death, was satisfactorily manifested by his answer to one of his friends, who was sitting by him, and who asked him if he knew him. Upon which, he immediately turned his eyes towards him, looked him full in the face, and said, "Yes," with so much distinctness, as to satisfy those who were present that he perfectly understood the question, and the answer.

He did not appear, for several hours previous to his death, to suffer much pain; but continued to breathe shorter and shorter, until a few minutes before three o'clock, on Saturday morning, the 11th of January, when he expired, without a struggle or a groan.

The death of President Dwight spread a deep and general sorrow, not only through the state, but through New-England, and extensively through the Union. Beloved by relatives, esteemed by his friends, revered by his pupils, and highly honoured by his countrymen, his loss was universally considered as a great public, as well as private calamity. In the city where he had so long resided, and where his worth was universally acknowledged, he was sincerely and feelingly lamented. His funeral was attended on Tuesday, the 14th of January, by a large concourse of people from New-Haven and the neighbouring towns, and a respectable number of the clergy from different parts of the state. As a mark of respect, the stores and shops in the city were shut, and business suspended. The scene was solemn and impressive. A deep gloom pervaded the whole assembly, and every one present felt himself a mourner. The various religious services exhibited the fullest evidence of the affection and respect which the reverend gentlemen who officiated, entertained for his private virtues, as well as their deep sense of the loss which the Church, the College, and the community, had sustained in his death. In many places, in different parts of the country, sermons were delivered on the occasion. În New-York and Albany, meetings were held by the alumni of the College, resident in those cities, where various public manifestations of their sense of his virtues, their regret for his death, and respect for his character, were exhibited. Indeed, we know of but one instance that has occurred in this country, in which such extensive public expressions of sorrow for the death of any individual, or respect for his memory, have appeared.

It cannot be expected, that the character of so great and good a man, can be fully exhibited in a sketch like the present. A mere outline is all that its limits will admit.

The life of President Dwight, approaching within a few years to the duration allotted by Infinite Wisdom as the ordinary term of VOL. I. &