THE PENITENT PRISONER. but he has said he will, and he cannot deny himself. He will in no wise cast out." He now told me all his wishes respecting my attendance at his execution, and what I should say to the spectators, if he should find himself able to stand long enough at the fatal spot; but added, "I think it likely I shall not wish death to be delayed, and I will tell you my wishes when I come there." I promised him that they should be exactly complied with. I now resigned him to the care of my friend Mr. S., and relieved my fatigued attention for an hour. At seven I returned, and staid with him till eleven: still his spirits and religious consolations were wonderfully sustained. At eleven, I commended him to the care of God for the last awful night. As soon as I was gone, he put on the dress in which he was to suffer; and then, retiring to his cell, he spent full two hours in reading the scriptures, with suitable hymns and prayer. He was indulged with great freedom and comfort, so that his heart seemed to overflow with joy; and he felt a most lively belief that God had taken away his dreadful load of guilt. He committed his soul affectionately into the hands of Christ; and being wearied with the long and often repeated exercises of the day, he prayed God to give him some rest, that he might meet, with more propriety and solemnity, the awful scene of the ensuing morning. God heard his prayer; he fell asleep at one, and slept comfortably till half-past three. At this hour Mr. S. said to him, "How do you find yourself?" He replied, "Blessed be God, quite comfortable; do not disturb me." He was heard to continue in the most animated devotion. At half-past four Mr. S. again inquired at the door of his cell. "How is your mind?" His answer was, quite happy: God will accept and save me a poor sinner." "You think he will?" said Mr. S. "I know he will," replied the prisoner, "for he has promised to save all that come to him through Christ; and he cannot lie." "Still At five o'clock the workmen began to erect the platform on which he was to suffer. Every stroke of the hammer reached my heart, but poor Davis heard the noise close to his cell without dismay. At this hour, after an anxious and sleepless night, I approached Davis's door, and heard the pleasing sounds break with ardour from his lips, "Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me! Take me, Oh kind Shepherd! take a poor wandering sinner to thy fold!-Thou art Lord of all things; death itself is put under thy feet; Oh Lord, save me!" In similar THE PENITENT PRISONER. strains he continued (for I was unwilling to disturb him) till the clock struck six. As he had now only two hours to live, I thought it proper to let him know that I was in the prison. As I entered his cell I said, "The fatal morning is come." He instantly grasped my hand, and said, "Blessed be God, I am ready." Then, as if correcting himself, he added, “Ready, the laws of my country oblige me to be; but I am willing, and God only could make me willing." In the conversation which immediately followed, I particularly remarked the stress which he placed on the death of Christ, as the foundation of his hope and the source of his comfort. "God will forgive me," said he, “for Christ the surety has died. God has accepted HIS sufferings, and I have fled to him for mercy; he will not now punish me. He has said, he will pardon the chief of sinners, and I believe him. Oh that these comforts may be with me to the last! What a wonder am I to myself, that God should thus support me, and even give me rest, to enable me to sustain the trial this morning. Oh God! keep me from all evil thoughts. Let me not have one, I pray Strengthen my faith to the last, I thee, in my last moments. beseech thee, Oh Lord!" About half-past six the prisoner, attended by Mr. S. and myself, walked from the hall to the chapel, which is at a short distance, and on the flat roof of which the platform was erected. On leaving his apartment, Mr. S. said, "I hope you are leaving a prison for a paradise to-day." He replied, "I have a paradise already." He looked up to the place of execution, and said, "I thought that sight would have sunk my heart, but God enables me to sustain that too." We now entered the chapel, in which the convicts always spend the last hour. It afforded to my mind the most lively consolation, to recollect that I had publicly requested on the preceding day, that all the people of God, who might be acquainted with the circumstances, would at this hour be offering up their earnest supplications for the poor sufferer, and for his attendants. I had no doubt of their compliance with this request, nor ought I to doubt of the full acceptance of their prayers. I think it is not presumptuous to say that they were abundantly answered, and that God was with us of a truth. On entering the chapel we fell on our knees, and I found my heart more than usually enlarged in prayer. We continued in this exercise long, and without weariness. When the clock struck seven, Mr. S. said to Davis, “You have now entered on the last hour of THE PENITENT PRISONER. your earthly existence." "I have," replied he, "but who would think that, and look at me? See, I am now all calm. ness and comfort. Oh what happiness do I now feel! Oh that my relations did but know the comforts which I now have! Oh that they might all feel the same! How good is God to me! I have always dreaded the distress of soul that I might feel at this last hour; yet this is the best hour which I ever had in my life. How good is God! He has kept the best blessings till the last. He knew that I should want most comforts now. If he had given them sooner, perhaps I might have slighted them, or trifled with them, but now they are just what I want. O let me praise him!" He then wished us to sing. We set some plaintive notes to penitential psalms and even ventured, in more cheerful strains, to sing, "Death may dissolve my body now." Davis wept much, but repeatedly said, "They are tears of joy and gratitude to God; I believe that Jesus has paid the dreadful debt." I reminded him that hundreds of the people of God were at that moment joining with us in prayer; and he said, "Do tell them what I feel; it will make them happy to hear it." He expressed much astonishment at the greatness of his consolations. "How can a dying man," said he, "be thus calm?" Then holding out his arm, he said, "Look; not a nerve of my body trembles, and I have not a fear in my soul." I reminded him that I had always encouraged him to hope that God would hear prayer and support him at the last hour. He replied, "God has heard every prayer since I entered this prison. He has given me every thing for which I asked him." It is impossible to describe the interest which I felt, as the rapid moments now brought on his last. At very short intervals, petitions, praises, and blessed promises were uttered in his ear, and his soul entered into them all. He was particularly desirous that he might die as he now felt, without any evil or unbelieving thoughts. I said, "Your eternal safety does not depend on this circumstance. If they come you will not welcome them." He answered, "No, that I shall not, for I hate them; but it will be very comfortable to die undisturbed by them." I knew the exact time when the ministers of justice would appear, and demand the prisoner at our hands; and I kept him in prayer the last ten minutes. On rising the signal was given, and I said, "The messenger is come.' "I am all ready," was his reply. The executioner entered: he was attended by the proper officers, and he held in his hand THE PENITENT PRISONER. the instrument of death. A more terrific appearance I think no human form could assume. His keen eye rolled over the apartment in search of his victim. My heart sunk with horror; but the poor criminal immediately, and with a calm step, crossed the chapel, gave his hand to the executioner, and said, "I am ready, do your duty." When prepared for execution, the attendants, who behaved with the greatest tenderness and humanity, joined in a short prayer, offered up at Davis's request. Though he was heavily ironed, the prisoner ascended without any help the long staircase which led up to the scaffold. At the top of the stairs Mr. S. took an affectionate farewell, and added, "I believe it is not an eternal one." The executioner was already on the platform, and it was my painful, but indispensable duty, to ascend it with poor Davis, at his dying request. I now asked him whether I should speak to the people what he had desired. He replied to this effect, "I had rather not stay while you speak much; only pray, and ask the people to join with you." I then said to the people, 66 This poor dying man confesses the justice of his sentence. He warns all against evil company, sabbath-breaking, and gaming, by which he was led to the crime for which he suffers. He hopes God has given him true repentance, and forgiveness through Jesus Christ, and begs you all to unite with him in prayer that God will receive his soul." The numerous spectators behaved with great solemnity. Kneeling with Davis, I offered our last united prayers to God, and on rising I said, "Are you comfortable?" He replied, "I am.” "Do you die with full faith in Christ?" He answered, "I do." "Then God receive your soul." He grasped my hand, and said, "Amen." I instantly retired, and in about a minute heard the platform fall. During that time he had been heard to use the petitions which he said should be his last, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit !" "Jesus, take me to thy fold!" Happily, he expired without a struggle; providence thus alleviating his bodily sufferings, while I humbly hope that grace, rich and abundant grace, had for ever removed all sorrow from his soul. "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." POETRY. ANECDOTES, SELECTIONS, AND GEMS. Poetry. TO THE THOUGHTLESS WANDERER. THOUGHTLESS sinner, wandering, | Life and hope, are now expiring, With thy ebbing vital breath. Hasten, sinner, to the mountain; And a peaceful home in heaven. In that land of light and love; There, thy sun will ever cheer thee, For it sets no more above. Amersham. J. C. Anecdotes, Selections, and Gems. Anecdotes. JOHN BUNYAN.-To the names of Baxter and Howe must be added the name of a man far below them in station and acquired knowledge, but in virtue their equal, and in genius their superior, John Bunyan. His education had been that of a mechanic. He knew no language but the English, as it was spoken by the common people. He had studied no great model of composition, with the exception, an important exception undoubtedly, of our noble translation of the Bible. His spelling was bad. He frequently transgressed the rules of grammar. Yet his native force of genius, and his experimental knowledge of all the religious passions, from despair up to ecstasy, amply supplied in him the want of learning. His rude oratory roused and melted hearers who listened without interest to the laboured discourses of great logicians and Hebraists. His works were widely circulated among the humbler classes. One of them, the "Pilgrim's Progress," was, in his own life-time, translated into several foreign languages. It was, however, scarcely known to the learned and polite, and had been, during nearly a |