borne on to Him whom he sees not; there may be sublimer and more acceptable actings of a pure and strong faith than in moments which afford the soul a much more rapturous delight.”  This is the substance of what he says in this excellent letter.  Some of the phrases made use of might not perhaps be intelligible to several of my readers, for which reason I do not exactly transcribe them all; but this is plainly and fully his meaning, and most of the words are his own.  The sentiment is surly very just and important; and happy would it be for many excellent persons, who, through wrong notions of the nature of faith, (which was never more misrepresented than now among some,) are perplexing themselves with the most groundless doubts and scruples, if it were more generally understood, admitted, and considered.

CHAPTER XIV.

APPREHENSIONS OF DEATH.

An endeared friend, who was most intimately conversant with the colonel during the last two years of his life, has favoured me with an account of some little circumstances relating to him, which I esteem as precious fragments, by which the consistent tenor of his character may be further illustrated.  I shall therefore insert them here, without being very solicitous as to the order in which they are introduced.

He perceived himself evidently in a very declining state from his first arrival in Britain, and seemed to entertain a fixed apprehension that he should continue but a little while longer in life.  “He expected death,” says my good correspondent, “and was delighted with the prospect,” which did not grow less amiable by the nearer approach.  The word of God, with which he had as intimate an acquaintance as most men I ever knew, and on which (especially on the New Testament) I have heard him make many very judicious and accurate remarks, was still his daily study; and it furnished him with matter of frequent conversation, much to the edification and comfort of those that were about him.  It was recollected that, among other passages, he had lately spoken of the following as having made a deep impression on his mind:  “My soul, wait thou only upon God.”  He would repeat it again and again, only, only, only!  So plainly did he see, and so deeply did he feel, the vanity of creature confidence and expectations.  With the strongest attestation would he often mention those words in Isaiah, as verified by long experience:  “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”  And with peculiar satisfaction would he utter those heroic words in Habakkuk, which he found armour of proof against every fear and every contingency:  “Though the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meal; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will