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wife told him she was sure he was doing somewhat that would undo him, and she was resolved he should not go out of his house; and if he should persist in it, she would tell the neighbours, and carry him before the mayor to be examined, that the truth might be found out.' The poor man, thus mastered by the passion and violence of his wife, was forced to yield to her, that there might be no farther noise, and so went into his bed.
And it was very happy that the king's jealousy hastened him from that inn. It was the solemn fastday, which was observed in those times principally to sel-inflame the people against the king, and all those who were loyal to him; and there was a chapel in that village over against that inn, where a weaver, who had been a soldier, used to preach, and utter all the villany imaginable against the old order of government: and he was then in the chapel preaching to his congregation when the king went from thence, and telling the people that Charles Stuart was lurking somewhere in that country, and that they would merit from God Almighty if they could find him out.' The passengers, who had lodged in the inn that night, had, as soon as they were up, sent for a smith to visit their horses, it being a hard frost. The smith, when he had done what he was sent for, according to the custom of that people, examined the feet of the other two horses, to find more work. When he had observed them, he told the host of the house that one of those horses had travelled far, and that he was sure that his four shoes had been made in four several counties;' which, whether his skill was able to discover or no, was very true. The smith going to the sermon, told his story to some of his neighbours, and so it came to the ears of the preacher when his sermon was done. Immediately he sent for an officer, and searched the inn, and inquired for those horses; and being informed that they were gone, he caused horses to be sent to follow them, and to make inquiry after the two men who rid those horses, and positively declared that one of them was Charles Stuart.'
satisfied with the discourse of the man, and his wari-
The king being satisfied with these preparations, came at the time appointed to that house where he was to hear that all went as it ought to do; of which he received assurance from the captain, who found that the man had honestly put his provisions on board, and had his company ready, which were but four men, and that the vessel should be drawn out that night; so that it was fit for the two persons to come to the aforesaid inn: and the captain conducted them within sight of it, and then went to his own house, not distant a mile from it; the colonel remaining still at the house where they had lodged the night before, till he might hear the news of their being em
They found many passengers in the inn, and so were to be contented with an ordinary chamber, which they did not intend to sleep long in. But as soon as there appeared any light, Wilmot went out to discover the bark, of which there was no appearance. In a word, the sun arose, and nothing like a ship in view. They sent to the captain, who was as much amazed; and he sent to the town, and his servant could not find the master of the bark, which was still in the pier. They suspected the captain, and the captain suspected the master. However, it being past ten of the clock, they concluded it was not fit for them to stay longer there, and so they mounted their horses again to return to the house where they had left the colonel, who, they knew, resolved to stay there till he were assured that they were gone.
When they came again to the colonel, they presently concluded that they were to make no longer stay in those parts, nor any more to endeavour to find a ship upon that coast; and without any farther delay, they rode back to the colonel's house, where they arrived in the night. Then they resolved to make their next attempt in Hampshire and Sussex, where Colonel Windham had no interest. They must pass through all Wiltshire before they came thither, which would require many days' journey; and they were first to consider what honest houses there were in or near the way, where they might securely repose; and it was thought very dangerous for the king to ride through any great town, as Salisbury or Winchester, which might probably lie in their way.
The truth of the disappointment was this: the man meant honestly, and made all things ready for his departure; and the night he was to go out with his There was, between that and Salisbury, a very vessel, he had stayed in his own house, and slept two honest gentleman, Colonel Robert Philips, a younger or three hours; and the time of the tide being come brother of a very good family, which had always been that it was necessary to be on board, he took out of a very loyal, and he had served the king during the war. cupboard some linen and other things, which he used The king was resolved to trust him, and so sent the to carry with him to sea. His wife had observed that Lord Wilmot to a place from whence he might send he had been for some days fuller of thoughts than he to Mr Philips to come to him; and when he had used to be, and that he had been speaking with sea-spoken with him, Mr Philips should come to the men who used to go with him, and that some of them king, and Wilmot was to stay in such a place as they had carried provisions on board the bark; of which two should agree. Mr Philips accordingly came she had asked her husband the reason, who had told to the colonel's house, which he could do without her that he was promised freight speedily, and there- suspicion, they being nearly allied. The ways were fore he would make all things ready.' She was sure very full of soldiers, which were sent now from the that there was yet no lading in the ship, and there- army to their quarters, and many regiments of horse fore, when she saw her husband take all those mate- and foot were assigned for the west, of which division rials with him, which was a sure sign that he meant to Desborough was commander-in-chief. These marches go to sea, and it being late in the night, she shut the were like to last for many days, and it would not be door, and swore he should not go out of his house. fit for the king to stay so long in that place. There He told her he must go, and was engaged to go to he resorted to his old security of taking a woman sea that night, for which he should be well paid." His behind him, a kinswoman of Colonel Windham, whom
he carried in that manner to a place not far from Salisbury, to which Colonel Philips conducted him. In this journey he passed through the middle of a regiment of horse, and, presently after, met Desborough walking down a hill with three or four men with him, who had lodged in Salisbury the night before, all that road being full of soldiers.
The next day, upon the plains, Dr Hinchman, one of the prebends of Salisbury, met the king, the Lord Wilmot and Philips then leaving him to go to the sea-coast to find a vessel, the doctor conducting the king to a place called Heale, three miles from Salisbury, belonging then to Serjeant Hyde, who was afterwards Chief Justice of the King's Bench, and then in the possession of the widow of his elder brother-a house that stood alone from neighbours, and from any highway-where coming in late in the evening, he supped with some gentlemen who accidentally were in the house, which could not well be avoided. But the next morning he went early from thence, as if he had continued his journey; and the widow, being trusted with the knowledge of her guest, sent her servants out of the way, and at an hour appointed received him again, and accommodated him in a little room, which had been made since the beginning of the troubles for the concealment of delinquents, the seat always belonging to a malignant family.
Here he lay concealed, without the knowledge of some gentlemen who lived in the house, and of others who daily resorted thither, for many days; the widow herself only attending him with such things as were necessary, and bringing him such letters as the doctor received from the Lord Wilmot and Colonel Philips. A vessel being at last provided upon the coast of Sussex, and notice thereof sent to Dr Hinchman, he sent to the king to meet him at Stonehenge, upon the plains, three miles from Heale, whither the widow took care to direct him; and being there met, he attended him to the place where Colonel Philips received him. He, the next day, delivered him to the Lord Wilmot, who went with him to a house in Sussex recommended by Colonel Gunter, a gentleman of that country, who had served the king in the war, who met him there, and had provided a little bark at Brighthelmstone, a small fisher town, where he went early on board, and, by God's blessing, arrived safely in Normandy.
[Character of Oliver Cromwell.]
He was one of those men, quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent; whom his very enemies could not condemn without commending him at the same time; for he could never have done half that mischief without great parts of courage, industry, and judgment. He must have had a wonderful understanding in the natures and humours of men, and as great a dexterity in applying them; who, from a private and obscure birth (though of a good family), without interest or estate, alliance or friendship, could raise himself to such a height, and compound and knead such opposite and contradictory tempers, humours, and interests into a consistence, that contributed to his designs, and to their own destruction; whilst himself grew insensibly powerful enough to cut off those by whom he had climbed, in the instant that they projected to demolish their own building. What was said of Cinna may very justly be said of him, ausum eum, quæ nemo auderet bonus; perfecisse, quæ a nullo, nisi fortissimo, perfici possent—[' he attempted those things which no good man durst have ventured on, and achieved those in which none but a valiant and great man could have succeeded.'] Without doubt, no man with more wickedness ever attempted anything, or brought to pass what he desired more wickedly, more in the face and contempt of religion and moral honesty. Yet wickedness as great as his
could never have accomplished those designs without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous resolution.
When he appeared first in the parliament, he seemed to have a person in no degree gracious, no ornament of discourse, none of those talents which use to conciliate the affections of the stander-by. Yet as he grew into place and authority, his parts seemed to be raised, as if he had had concealed faculties, till he had occasion to use them; and when he was to act the part of a great man, he did it without any indecency, notwithstanding the want of custom.
After he was confirmed and invested Protector by the humble petition and advice, he consulted with very few upon any action of importance, nor communicated any enterprise he resolved upon with more than those who were to have principal parts in the execution of it; nor with them sooner than was absolutely necessary. What he once resolved, in which he was not rash, he would not be dissuaded from, nor endure any contradiction of his power and authority, but extorted obedience from them who were not willing to yield it.
Thus he subdued a spirit that had been often troublesome to the most sovereign power, and made Westminster Hall as obedient and subservient to his commands as any of the rest of his quarters. In all other matters, which did not concern the life of his jurisdiction, he seemed to have great reverence for the law, rarely interposing between party and party. As he proceeded with this kind of indignation and haughtiness with those who were refractory, and durst contend with his greatness, so towards all who complied with his good pleasure, and courted his protection, he used great civility, generosity, and bounty.
To reduce three nations, which perfectly hated him, to an entire obedience to all his dictates; to awe and govern those nations by an army that was indevoted to him, and wished his ruin, was an instance of a very prodigious address. But his greatness at home was but a shadow of the glory he had abroad. It was hard to discover which feared him most, France, Spain, or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it. As they did all sacrifice their honour and their interest to his pleasure, so there is nothing he could have demanded that either of them would have denied him.
To conclude his character: Cromwell was not so far a man of blood as to follow Machiavel's method; which prescribes, upon a total alteration of government, as a thing absolutely necessary, to cut off all the heads of those, and extirpate their families, who are friends to the old one. It was confidently reported, that in the council of officers it was more than once proposed, that there might be a general massacre of all the royal party, as the only expedient to secure the government,' but that Cromwell would never consent to it; it may be, out of too great a contempt of his enemies. In a word, as he was guilty of many crimes against which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he had some good qualities which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave wicked man.
BULSTRODE WHITELOCKE (1605-1676), an eminent lawyer, who wrote Memorials of English Affairs from the beginning of the reign of Charles I. to the Restoration, was of principles opposite to those of Lord Clarendon, though, like Selden and other moderate anti-royalists, he was averse to a civil war. Whitelocke was the legal adviser of Hampden during the prosecution of that celebrated patriot for refusing
to pay ship-money. As a member of parliament, and one of the commissioners appointed to treat with the king at Oxford, he advocated pacific measures; and, being an enemy to arbitrary power both in church and state, he refused, in the Westminster assembly for settling the form of church government, to admit the assumed divine right of presbytery. Under Cromwell he held several high appointments; and during the government of the Protector's son Richard, acted as one of the keepers of the great seal. At the Restoration, he retired to his estate in Wiltshire, which continued to be his principal residence till his death in 1676. Whitelocke's Memorials' not having been intended for publication, are almost wholly written in the form of a diary, and are to be regarded rather as a collection of historical materials than as history itself. In a posthumous volume of Essays, Ecclesiastical and Civil, he strongly advocates religious toleration.
GILBERT BURNET was the son of a Scottish advocate of reputation, and nephew to Johnston of
the continent, he became serviceable in Holland to the Prince of Orange, accompanied the expedition which brought about the Revolution, and was rewarded with the bishopric of Salisbury. Both as a prelate and a literary man, he spent the remainder of his life with usefulness and activity, till its termination in 1715. Burnet left in manuscript his celebrated History of My Own Times, giving an outline of the events of the civil war and commonwealth, and a full narration of what took place from the Restoration to the year 1713, during which period the author advanced from his seventeenth to his seventieth year. As he had, under various circumstances, personally known the conspicuous characters of a whole century, and penetrated most of the state secrets of a period nearly as long, he has been able to exhibit all these in his work with a felicity not inferior to Clarendon's, though allowance is also required to be made in his case for political prejudices. Foreseeing that the freedom with which he delivered his opinions concerning men of all ranks and parties would give offence in many quarters, Bishop Burnet ordered, in his will, that his history should not be published till six years after his death; so that it did not make its appearance till 1723.* Its publication, as might have been expected, was a signal for the commencement of numerous attacks on the reputation of the author, whose veracity and fairness were loudly impeached. It fell under the lash of the Tory wits-Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot; by the last of whom it was ridiculed in a humorous production, entitled Memoirs of P. P., Clerk of this Parish. In the opinion of a more impartial posterity, however, Bishop Burnet's honest freedom of speech, his intrepid exposure of injustice and corruption, in what rank soever he found it to exist, and the liveliness and general accuracy with which the events and characters of his age are described, are far more than sufficient to counterbalance his garrulous vanity and self-importance, and a singular tendency to view persons and occurrences with the spirit and credulity of a partisan. There is no good reason to suppose that he willingly distorts the truth; though, in his preface, he makes the following admission that some things may have been over-coloured. 'I find that the long experience I have had of the baseness, the malice, and the falsehood of mankind, has inclined me to be apt to think generally the worst both of men and parties; and, indeed, the peevishness, the ill-nature, and the ambition of many clergymen, has sharpened my spirits too much against them: so I warn my reader to take all that I say on these heads with some grains of allowance, though I have watched over myself and my pen so carefully. that I hope there is no great occasion for this apology. I have written,' says he, with a design to make both myself and my readers wiser and better, and to lay open the good and bad of all sides and parties as clearly and impartially as I myself understood it; concealing nothing that I thought fit to be known, and representing things in their natural colours, without art or disguise, without any regard to kindred or friends, to parties or interests: for I do solemnly say this to the world, and make my humble appeal upon it to the great God of truth, that I tell the truth on all occasions, as fully and freely as upon my best inquiry I have been able to find it out. Where things appear doubtful, I deliver them with the same uncertainty to the world. Dr King of Oxford says in his Anecdotes of His Own Times,' 'I knew Burnet, bishop of Salisbury; he was
Warriston, one of the principal popular leaders of the civil war in Scotland. He was born at Edinburgh in 1643, and after entering life as a clergyman of his native church, and holding for some years the divinity professorship at Glasgow, he removed to a benefice in London, where, partly by his talents, and partly through forward and officious habits, he rendered himself the confidant of many high political persons. In 1679 he greatly increased his reputation by publishing the first volume of a History of the Reformation in England. The appearance of this work at the time when the Popish Plot was engaging public attention, procured to the author the thanks of both houses of parliament, with a request that he would complete the history. This he did by publishing two additional volumes in 1681 and 1714; and the work is considered the best existing account of the important occurrences of which it treats. The conduct of Charles II. towards the conclusion of his reign was highly offensive to Burnet, who formed an intimate connexion with the opposition party, and even wrote a letter to the king, freely censuring both his public acts and private vices. Both in this and the suc- *Burnet's sons, by whom it was published, took the liberty, ceeding reign, his opinions brought him into dis-of suppressing many passages, which were restored in the pleasure with the court. Having, therefore, retired to Oxford edition of 1823.
a furious party-man, and easily imposed on by any lying spirit of his own faction; but he was a better pastor than any man who is now seated on the bishops' bench. Although he left a large family when he died, three sons and two daughters (if I rightly remember), yet he left them nothing more than their mother's fortune. He always declared, that he should think himself guilty of the greatest crime if he were to raise fortunes for his children out of the revenue of his bishopric."*
The principal works of Bishop Burnet, in addition to those already mentioned, are Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton (1676); An Account of the Life and Death of the Earl of Rochester (1680), whom he attended on his penitent death-bed; The Lives of Sir Matthew Hale and Bishop Bedell (1682 and 1685); a translation of Sir Thomas More's Utopia;'t and various theological treatises, among which is an Exposition of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England. His style, though too unpolished to place him in the foremost rank of historical writers, is spirited and vigorous; while his works afford sufficient evidence that to various and extensive knowledge he added great acuteness in the discrimination of human character. As he composed with great ease and rapidity, and avoided long and intricate sentences, his pages are much more readable than those of Clarendon.
poor; such as were so by natural infirmity or folly, as impotent persons, and madmen or idiots; such as were so by accident, as sick or maimed persons; and such as, by their idleness, did cast themselves into poverty. So the king ordered the Greyfriars' church, near Newgate, with the revenues belonging to it, to be a house for orphans; St Bartholomew's, near Smithfield, to be an hospital; and gave his own house of Bridewell to be a place of correction and work for such as were wilfully idle. He also confirmed and enlarged the grant for the hospital of St Thomas in Southwark, which he had erected and endowed in August last. And when he set his hand to these foundations, which was not done before the 5th of June this year, he thanked God that had prolonged his life till he had finished that design. So he was the first founder of those houses, which, by many great additions since that time, have risen to be amongst the noblest in Europe.
He expressed, in the whole course of his sickness, great submission to the will of God, and seemed glad at the approaches of death; only, the consideration of religion and the church touched him much; and upon that account he said he was desirous of life. His distemper rather increased than abated; so that the physicians had no hope of his recovery. Upon which a confident woman came, and undertook his cure, if he might be put into her hands. This was done, and the physicians were put from him, upon this pretence, that, they having no hopes of his recovery, in a desperate case desperate remedies were to be applied. This was said to be the Duke of Northumberland's advice in particular; and it increased the people's jealousy of him, when they saw the king grow sensibly worse every day after he came under the woman's care; which becoming so plain, she was put from him, and the physicians were again sent for, and took him into their charge. But if they had small hopes before, they had none at all now. Death thus hastening on him, the Duke of Northumberland, who had done but half his work, except he had got the king's sisters in his hands, got the council to write to them in the king's name, inviting them to come and keep him company in his sickness. But as they were on the way, on the 6th of July, his spirits and body were so sunk, that he found death approaching; and so he composed himself to die in a most devout manner. His whole exercise was in short prayers and ejaculations. The last that he was heard to use was in these words: Lord God, deliver me out of this miserable and wretched life, and take me among thy chosen; howbeit, not my will, but thine be done; Lord, I commit my spirit to thee. Oh Lord, thou knowest how happy it were for me to be with thee; yet, for thy chosen's sake, send me life and health, that I may truly serve thee. Oh my Lord God, bless my people, and save thine inheritance. Oh Lord God, save thy chosen people of England; oh Lord God, defend this realm from pa
* King's ' Anecdotes,' p. 185. Sir James Mackintosh (Edin-pistry, and maintain thy true religion, that I and my burgh Review, vol. xxxvi. p. 15) characterises Burnet as a people may praise thy holy name, for Jesus Christ his zealous and avowed partisan, but an honest writer, whose sake.' Seeing some about him, he seemed troubled account of facts is seldom substantially erroneous, though it be that they were so near, and had heard him; but, with often inaccurate in points of form and detail.' Dr Johnson's a pleasant countenance, he said he had been praying opinion is thus recorded by Boswell:- Burnet's History of His to God. And soon after, the pangs of death coming Own Times is very entertaining: the style, indeed, is mere upon him, he said to Sir Henry Sidney, who was holdchit-chat. I do not believe that Burnet intentionally lied; but ing him in his arms, 'I am faint; Lord have mercy he was so much prejudiced, that he took no pains to find out the on me, and receive my spirit ;' and so he breathed out truth. He was like a man who resolves to regulate his time by his innocent soul. a certain watch, but will not inquire whether the watch is right or not.' Horace Walpole says 'Burnet's style and manner
are very interesting; it seems as if he had just come from the king's closet, or from the apartments of the men whom he describes, and was telling his reader, in plain honest terms, what he had seen and heard.'
† An extract from this will be found at p. 60 of the present
[Death and Character of Edward VI.]
In the beginning of January this year , he was seized with a deep cough, and all medicines that were used did rather increase than lessen it. He was so ill when the parliament met, that he was not able to go to Westminster, but ordered their first meeting and the sermon to be at Whitehall. In the time of his sickness, Bishop Ridley preached before him, and took occasion to run out much on works of charity, and the obligation that lay on men of high condition to be eminent in good works. This touched the king to the quick; so that, presently after the sermon, he sent for the bishop. And, after he had commanded him to sit down by him, and be covered, he resumed most of the heads of the sermon, and said he looked upon himself as chiefly touched by it. He desired him, as he had already given him the exhortation in general, so to direct him to do his duty in that particular. The bishop, astonished at this tenderness in so young a prince, burst forth in tears, expressing how much he was overjoyed to see such inclinations in him; but told him he must take time to think on it, and craved leave to consult with the lord-mayor and court of aldermen. So the king writ by him to them to consult speedily how the poor should be relieved. They considered there were three sorts of
The king was sixteen years of age.
Thus died King Edward VI., that incomparable young prince. He was then in the sixteenth year of his age, and was counted the wonder of that time. He was not only learned in the tongues, and other liberal sciences, but knew well the state of his kingdom. He kept a book, in which he writ the characters that were given him of all the chief men of the nation, all the judges, lord-lieutenants, and justices
of the peace over England: in it he had marked down
In a word, the natural and acquired perfections of
He had, above all things, a great regard to religion. He took notes of such things as he heard in sermons, which more especially concerned himself; and made his measures of all men by their zeal in that matter. • * All men who saw and observed these qualities in him, looked on him as one raised by God for most extraordinary ends; and when he died, concluded that the sins of England had been great, that had provoked God to take from them a prince, under whose government they were like to have seen such blessed times. He was so affable and sweet-natured, that all had free access to him at all times; by which he came to be most universally beloved; and all the high things that could be devised were said by the people to express their esteem of him.
[Character of Leighton, Bishop of Dumblane-His Death.]
[From the History of My Own Times.']
He was the son of Dr Leighton, who had in Archbishop Laud's time writ Zion's Plea against the Prelates,' for which he was condemned in the StarChamber to have his ears cut and his nose siit. He was a man of a violent and ungoverned heat. He sent his eldest son Robert to be bred in Scotland, who was accounted a saint from his youth up. He had great quickness of parts, a lively apprehension, with a charming vivacity of thought and expression. He had the greatest command of the purest Latin that ever I knew in any man. He was a master both of Greek and Hebrew, and of the whole compass of theo
logical learning, chiefly in the study of the Scriptures. But that which excelled all the rest was, he was possessed with the highest and noblest sense of divine things that I ever saw in any man. He had no regard to his person, unless it was to mortify it by a constant low diet, that was like a perpetual fast. He had a contempt both of wealth and reputation. He seemed to have the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and to desire that all other persons should think as meanly of him as he did himself. He bore all sorts of ill usage and reproach like a man that took pleasure in it. He had so subdued the natural heat of his temper, that in a great variety of accidents, and
a course of twenty-two years' intimate conversation with him, I never observed the least sign of passion but upon one single occasion. He brought himself into so composed a gravity, that I never saw him laugh, and but seldom smile. And he kept himself in such a constant recollection, that I do not remember that ever I heard him say one idle word. There was a visible tendency in all he said to raise his own mind, and those he conversed with, to serious reflections. He seemed to be in a perpetual meditation. And though the whole course of his life was strict and ascetical, yet he had nothing of the sourness of temper that generally possesses men of that sort. He was the freest from superstition, of censuring others, or of imposing his own methods on them, possible; so that he did not so much as recommend them to others. He said there was a diversity of tempers, and every man was to watch over his own, and to turn it in the best manner he could. His thoughts were lively, oft out of the way, and surprising, yet just and genuine. And he had laid together in his memory the greatest treasure of the best and wisest of all the ancient sayings of the heathens as well as Christians, that I have ever known any man master of; and he used them in the aptest manner possible. He had been bred up with the greatest aversion imaginable to the whole frame of the church of England. From Scotland, his father sent him to travel. He spent some years in France, and spoke that language like one born there. He came afterwards and settled in Scotland, and had Presbyterian ordination; but he quickly broke through the prejudices of his education. His preaching had a sublimity both of thought and expression in it. The grace and gravity of his pronunciation was such, that few heard him without a very sensible emotion: I am sure I never did. His style was rather too fine; but there was a majesty and beauty in it that left so deep an impression, that I cannot yet forget the sermons I heard him preach thirty years ago. And yet with this he seemed to look on himself as so ordinary a preacher, that while he had a cure, he was ready to employ all others. And when he was a bishop, he chose to preach to small auditories, and would never give notice beforehand he had, indeed, a very low voice, and so could not be heard by a great crowd. *
Upon his coming to me [in London], I was amazed to see him, at above seventy, look still so fresh and well, that age seemed as if it were to stand still with him. His hair was still black, and all his motions were lively. He had the same quickness of thought, and strength of memory, but, above all, the same heat and life of devotion, that I had ever seen in him. When I took notice to him upon my first seeing him how well he looked, he told me he was very near his end for all that, and his work and journey both were now almost done. This at that time made no great impression on me. He was the next day taken with an oppression, and as it seemed with a cold and with stitches, which was indeed a pleurisy.
The next day Leighton sunk so, that both speech and sense went away of a sudden. And he continued panting about twelve hours, and then died without pangs or convulsions. I was by him all the while.