, dear, good man! I little thought at the time how much
distress and pain I was causing him. When he found that I was coming
back to Christ, he was joyful beyond measure. When he heard me preach on
true religion, he was in transports. At a meeting that followed, he
spoke with so much feeling and fervor, that I was obliged to try to
check him a little, for fear the violence of his excitement should
injure his feeble and failing health. My conversion, though but partial
then, gave him the utmost delight.

At length his feeble frame gave way, and he sank into his bed to rise no
more. He sent me word that he was very desirous to see me, and I visited
him without delay. He was very ill. His voice was almost gone, and he
spoke with great difficulty. He told me he wished me, when he was gone,
to preach his funeral sermon, and write his epitaph, and take charge of
a manuscript containing the story of his life. I told him I would do so.
He then spoke of his trust in God, his love of Christ, and his hopes of
a blessed immortality, while tears of joy stood glistening in his eyes.
He then referred to some matters that had tried him sadly, but added: "I
have cast my care on God." He tried to speak of his feelings towards me,
but said: "Those papers (referring to the story of his life) will tell
you all." At last he said: "Pray with me, Joseph." I had not prayed with
any one for many years, but I said at once: "I will, Sammy;" and I fell
on my knees, and prayed by his side. He then, weak as he was, prayed
earnestly for me, and for my wife and family.

He died a few weeks after. I preached his funeral sermon on the
following Sunday, in May, 1863, in a field near the house in which he
had lived and died, from the text: "Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his." There was an immense
congregation, consisting of people of all denominations, both infidel
and Christian, from every part of the surrounding district. When
speaking of his conduct in clinging to the religion of Christ, instead
of following me into the regions of doubt and unbelief, I declared my
conviction that he had done right. "He had read little," said I, "and I
had read much: yet he was the wiser man of the two. His good religious
instincts and feelings kept him right, and kept him happy in the warmth
and sunlight of the religion of Christ; while my vain reasonings carried
me astray into the dark and chilling regions of eternal cold and utter