assured me that Rose had passed through the duties of his profession at Horsham with great firmness of mind, though his frame and countenance discovered the most alarming appearances of a rapid and incurable decay.

In the course of the autumn, he tried the air of the Kentish coast; but returned to London in a state so far from recovery, that his physicians considered his disorder as a confirmed hectic. It is the nature of this subtle disease to elude the observation of its victim in a very marvellous manner, and Rose is a remarkable example of this consolatory truth. He had no perception of his own danger till the beginning of December; but in passing through variations of suffering, extended through eleven months, he continued to exercise his faculties in the dispatch of business before him, and to form very chearful plans of future occupation.

On the third of December, feeling a great encrease of debility, he drew from his physician and father-in-law, Dr. Farr, a perfect avowal of his imminent danger. He heard it with surprize, but without any emotions of terror or dismay.

The first idea that he exprest, was concern for

the shock, which his affectionate wife must sustain in being apprized that his death was so near.

On being informed by her father, that she had been gradually prepared for the worst, the dying man forgetful of himself, expressed a most tender and generous sense of the great fortitude and kindness, with which that admirable woman had suppressed and disguised her own feelings, for such a length of time, to support the spirits of a declining invalide in a very beneficial illusion.

He declared, that he had never obtained till that moment perfect knowledge of his fatal disease. He was instantly aware, that he must now, in all probability, have very few days to live, and with serene magnanimity he began to employ them in the most earnest yet tranquil attention to all the duties of a departing Christian.

To dwell on the death-bed of a young and highly promising friend must be a task of considerable anguish to a feeling heart; but from the pain inevitably attending it I will not shrink on this occasion, because I deem it incumbent on me to describe, in the most trying of human scenes, the conduct and temper of the man, whose loss is deeply felt by

all, who perfectly knew him, and whose close of life, in being simply and justly delineated, can hardly fail to prove, in some degree, a lesson of public utility.

In sketches of biography the latter hours of the person commemorated are observed to excite a peculiarity of interest, which Addison has well explained by saying-" The dying man is one, whom, sooner or later, we shall certainly resemble."

The death of Addison himself, so distinguished by Christian serenity, and so feelingly recorded by Dr. Young, affords not a scene of more instruction than the departure of Rose, of whom, though his life had the grace of the most becoming benevolence, it may be truly said, in the words of Shakespear,

Nothing in his life

Became him, like the leaving it: he died

As one, that had been studied in his death.

After cherishing, for a long time, very sanguine expectations of recovery, he found it requisite, on a sudden, to relinquish all the many endearing ties, that attached him to the earth-to settle every worldly concern, and devote himself to God. This arduous task he immediately accomplished with an

astonishing promptitude, acuteness, and vigour of mind, though suffering bodily infirmities of a very oppressive nature, particularly in the breast, now the principal seat of his malady! He employed many hours every day in examining and adjusting his papers. He thought it right to express his confidence in the understanding, and the heart of Mrs. Rose, by not appointing any other guardian to his four sons.

This interesting sufferer had yet several most trying days and nights to pass on his bed of death, to which he was confined in one posture for three weeks, with a body harrassed at times by varieties of pain, and gradually wasting; but with a mind, that seemed to derive new serenity, and new powers, from his near approach to a better world. A great part of the first night, after being thoroughly apprized of his situation, he devoted to fervent prayer. His former transient hopes of returning health were then converted into the stedfast hope of eternal happiness. In the subsequent days he conversed occasionally with those he loved on various subjects, both serious and chearful, displaying upon all an astonishing strength and vivacity of mind. All his intellectual powers seemed to be collected

and exerted for the noble purpose of bearing, with the most tranquil fortitude and resignation, his own complicated sufferings; and of alleviating the internal anguish of all around him.

He spoke of his encreasing hope and confidence in the mercy of God, and the mediation of his Redeemer. He said his belief in the truths of Christianity had never been shaken; but that finding himself unable to give satisfactory reasons for that belief, he had, in a season of leisure, soon after the beginning of his illness, deliberately examined the great question, and from the course of reading which he then pursued, he became unshakeable in his faith.

He

The authors who confirmed him in it were Lardner and Paley. He recommended them, and Paley most particularly, to all who doubted. expressed a tender and generous satisfaction, that his friends had been long prepared for his death, and that he was not sooner aware of it, repeating his gratitude to those, who had been most instrumental in preventing his earlier discovery of his insidious disorder." God," he said, "has been merciful to "me in closing my eyes, almost miraculously, till I "could bear their being opened. IIad my death