new modelled his plan; and, in the last part of his last illness, revised the Discourse again. In the last letter he ever wrote, April 12. 1792, he intrusted the corrected manuscript for publication, to his friend, Dr. Loveday; under whose inspection it was, early in the next year, given to the world.*

In 1790, an infirmity came upon Dr. Townson, which rendered travelling painful and hazardous. The malady, in itself not very severe nor uncommon, was affecting in its circumstances. It was the first symptom of approaching dissolution; and it cut him off from visiting those distant friends, whom he loved and respected. His feelings were sensibly touched on the occasion; but he quickly became content, and almost pleased with the dispensation. "I do not," he said with emphasis, "regret this at all. regret this at all. There is a time when it is right a man should stay at home." And the sincerity of the declaration was evinced by his spirits and cheerfulness, which flowed, if possible, with a fuller tide than ever.

He still composed sermons occasionally for the instruction of his parish. Nor was he inattentive, amidst his sacred studies, to the publications

* Under the following title, " A Discourse on the Evangelical History, from the Interment, to the Ascension, of our Lord Jesus Christ."

of the day, and to works of philology and genius. In the autumn of 1791, he was reading Mr. Cowper's Iliad," with no small pleasure;" and had proceeded about half way, but then stopt, finding his relish for such intellectual amusements failing him. "Whether I have recovered it," he says, "I have not yet made the experiment; and, at this time of day, it would be no great matter whether I have or not, if my thoughts had so much more fully taken a higher direction."*

When he wrote this, he was struggling with that malady, which it pleased God was his last. Some symptoms of dropsy came upon him with the cold weather in December; however, he still attended church; and, on the first day of the new year, preached with good elocution, twentythree minutes, on Proverbs xxvii. 1. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." A sermon on this text was the first that he preached in Malpas church; and another on the same text happened to be the last. His complaint, attended with an asthma, increased after this in a very rapid and alarming degree; and, for the first time during his residence at Malpas, medical assistance was called in.

* Letter to Mr. Churton, February 16. 1792.

Upon the first attack of the disorder, his spirits sunk considerably; but divine goodness, aiding his endeavours, soon restored his cheerfulness in all its vigour.

He read Izaac Walton's Lives during his illness; with a view, no doubt, to trim his lamp and prepare for the Lord, by comparing his conduct with the examples of those meek and holy men, described by the pleasing and faithful biographer. He also read, and assuredly with similar intentions, Mr. Herbert's Country Parson.

His respiration at times was laborious, especially after any little exertion; but in general, at least by his own account, he suffered very little pain. He slept comfortably; and often, when he awaked, felt as well as ever he was in his life, till he began to move, and found the want of strength and activity.

Though it was winter, and his friends pressed him to stay at home, he attended church with very few intermissions. And on Easter Sunday, April 8., the hand that writes this, administered to him, at the holy table, the blessed emblems of the body and blood of his Redeemer.

On the following Saturday he had a remarkably good night; and read prayers to his family with greater strength of voice than he had done for several days. He was extremely cheerful. His curate, the Rev. James Heaton, M.A., called,

and he gave him privately four guineas for a charitable subscription, with an injunction to put down his name for half the sum only. And this may, not improperly, be called the last deed of his life. For, in less than an hour, as he was walking alone, he fell; and though he was not bruised by the fall, the concussion and the cold (for it was in the open air) hurt him greatly. His breathing was difficult; and he dozed most part of the time.

This accident, in all human appearance, shortened his days perhaps a week or a fortnight. But the stroke was not without circumstances of mercy. He had this very morning given the only direction which remained to be given respecting his work. Had no alteration taken place, his Brasen Nose friend, who was now with him, would have returned, as duty called him, to Oxford; and, lastly, he must otherwise, in a few days, have been confined to a bed of debility and languor. But, as matters were ordered, the Father of all wisdom and God of all comfort, who had permitted an attachment he once had to be disappointed, was pleased so to extend his goodness to his faithful servant, both in his former unexampled good health, and in the cir

* (Mr. Churton.)-ED.

cumstances of his final sickness, that those endearing attentions, which female tenderness and affection alone can administer, should not be wanted; and what servants can perform, was done in the best manner possible.

He rose on Sunday morning, April 15., at the usual hour; but his strength was not recruited. He had frequent and calm slumbers; and felt no uneasiness, except sometimes a very little pain in his breast. His memory was as quick as ever, and his attention to his friends undiminished. Towards evening, when it was proposed to assist him to bed, he put it off with civil excuses. About eight o'clock he consented; and walked between two persons with some alertness. I was supporting him while the servant took off his clothes, and he fainted in my arms; and it was feared life was no longer in him; but when he was laid gently down in bed he revived; and lay, he said, quite easy. At the hour of prayers, as it was judged he was too infirm to join in them, those who could be spared withdrew to another room. When we returned, the laborious respiration had ceased; he breathed feebly, but seemingly with perfect ease. In a very short space, he opened his eyes, and, with a placid countenance, looked stedfastly upwards, best part of a minute. Then he closed his eyes, and in less