the Methodists.  Judge how violent bigotry must be in such mad blood!  The Earl, by no means disposed to be a convert, let her visit him, and often sent for her, as it was more company; but he grew sick of her, and complained that she was enough to provoke any body.  She made her suffragan, Whitfield, pray for and preach about him, and that impertinent fellow told his enthusiasts in his sermon, that my Lord’s heart was stone.  The earl wanted much to see his mistress:  my Lord Cornwallis, as simple an old woman as my Lady Huntingdon herself, consulted her whether he should permit it.  “Oh! by no means; it would be letting him die in adultery!” In one thing she was more sensible.  He resolved not to take leave of his children, four girls, but on the scaffold, and then to read to them a paper he had drawn up, very bitter on the family of Meredith, and on the House of Lords for -the first transaction.  This my Lady Huntingdon persuaded him to drop, and he took leave of his children the day before.  He wrote two letters in the preceding week to Lord Cornwallis on some of these requests — they were cool and rational, and concluded with desiring him not to mind the absurd requests of his (Lord Ferrers’s) family in his behalf.  On the last morning he dressed himself in his wedding clothes, and said, he thought this, at least, as good an occasion of putting them on as that for which they were first made.  He wore them to Tyburn.  This marked the strong impression on his mind.  His mother wrote to his wife in a weak angry Style, telling her to intercede for him as her duty, and to swear to his madness.  But this was not so easy; in all her cause before the lords, she had persisted that he was not mad.

Sir William Meredith, and even Lady Huntingdon had prophesied that his courage would fail him at last, and had so much foundation, that it is certain Lord Ferrers had often been beat:- -but the Methodists were to get no honour by him.  His courage rose where it was most likely to fail,-an unlucky circumstance to prophets, especially when they have had the prudence to have all kind of probability on their side.  Even an awful procession of above two hours, with that mixture of pageantry, shame, and ignominy, nay, and of delay, could not dismount his resolution.  He set out from the Tower at nine, amidst crowds, thousands.  First went a string of constables; then one of the sheriffs, in his chariot and six, the horses dressed with ribands; next Lord Ferrers, in his own landau and six, his coachman crying all the way; guards at each side; the other sheriffs chariot followed empty, with a mourning coach-and-six, a hearse, and the Horse Guards.  Observe, that the empty chariot was that of the other sheriff, who was in the coach with the prisoner, and who was Vaillant, the French bookseller in the Strand.  How will you decipher all these strange circumstances to Florentines?  A bookseller in robes and in mourning, sitting as a magistrate by