DYING WITHOUT RELIGION.

SECTION I.

The Dying Sinner.

1. LOUIS XV., OF FRANCE.

"Tell what lesson may be read
Beside a sinner's restless bed."

THE closing scenes of the life of Louis XV., altogether one of the most depraved and sensual of the monarchs who ever occupied the throne of France, were full of horror. Vice, in all the forms which it could assume, had entered into the systematic depravity of his unlicensed pleasures. His disgusting depravity exposed him to the small-pox, then the dread of all society. Though flattered for a time into the belief that there was no danger, he was at length undeceived; but owing to the prevalence of court-intrigue, it was at the latest possible moment. Surrounded by all the guilty minions of his corrupted court, he, who had not forgotten the lessons. of virtue and religion taught by Massillon in his early career, felt himself unprepared to die. He caused his guilty companions to be sent away, telling them that he would recall them should he recover from his disorder. Just before dismissing one of the most degraded among them, he said, "May God grant that my disorder may not be dangerous; however, it may become so if it is as yet harmless, and I would fain die as a believer, and not as an infidel. I have been a great sinner, doubtless; but I have ever observed Lent with a most scrupulous

exactitude; I have caused more than a hundred thousand masses to be said for the repose of unhappy souls; I have respected the clergy, and punished the authors of all impious works, so that I flatter myself I have not been a very bad Christian."

This effort at self-deception did not however succeed; and when the disorder advanced a little further, the dying king ordered a public proclamation to be made before the court of his repentance for his past scandals, and his desire, if spared, to amend his life. Even yet conscience was not satisfied. His agony and anguish were extreme; and amidst the utmost virulence of his fatal disorder— deserted by most of his courtiers, who fled in terror from the dread infection-with none to soothe his dying pillow, and no hope in which to die-occupied, when reason was awake, by uttering, in broken sentences, the religious horror of which he was the subject,—this licentious and most unhappy king expired.

2. A DYING FOLLOWER OF THE WORLD.

"In that dread moment, how the frantic soul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement,
Runs to each avenue, aud shrieks for help.
How wishfully she looks on all she's leaving,
Now no longer hers. A little longer!
Yet a little longer!-O might she stay,
To wash away her crimes, and fit her

For the passage! Her very eyes weep blood;

And every groan she heaves, is big with horror;

But the foo, like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose,

Pursues her close, through every lane of life;
Nor misses once the track, but presses on,
Till forced, at last, to the tremendous verge,

At once she sinks to everlasting ruin."—BLAIR.

THE following affecting account of the dying hours of a man of gayety and pleasure, was given by Mr. Hervey, in a letter to that son of dissipation, sin, and folly, the

late Beau Nash, of Bath. It was designed as a friendly warning to him, to prepare to meet his God, though it is to be apprehended the warning was in vain.

"I was, not long since, called to visit a poor gentleman, erewhile of the most robust body and the gayest temper I ever knew. But when I visited him, O! how was the glory departed from him! I found him no more that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which he used to be; but languishing, pining away, and withering under the chastening hand of God. His limbs feeble and trembling, his countenance forlorn and ghastly, and the little breath he had left, sobbed out in sorrowful sighs! His body hastening apace to the dust to lodge in the silent grave, the land of darkness and desolation. His soul just going to God who gave it; preparing to wing itself away unto its long home, to enter upon an unchangeable and eternal state. When I was come up into his chamber, and had seated myself on his bed, he first cast a most wishful look upon me, and then began, as well as he was able, to speak. O that I had been wise, that I had known this, that I had considered my latter end! Ah! Mr., death is knocking at my doors; in a few hours more I shall draw my last gasp, and then judgment, the tremendous judgment! How shall I appear, unprepared as I am, before the all-knowing and omnipotent God? How shall I endure the day of his coming? When I mentioned, among many other things, that strict holiness which he had formerly so slightly esteemed, he replied with a hasty eagerness: 'O! that holiness is the only thing I now long for. I have not words to tell you how highly I value it. I would gladly part with all my estate, large as it is, or a world, to obtain it. Now my benighted eyes are enlightened, 1 clearly discern the things that are excellent. What is there in the place whither I am going but God? Or what is there to be desired on earth but religion?'

"But if this God should restore you to health', said I, 'think you that you should alter your former course?'

"I call heaven and earth to witness,' said he, 'I would labour for holiness, as I shall soon labour for life. As for riches and pleasures, and the applauses of men, I account them as dross and dung, no more to my happiness than the feathers that lie on the floor. O! if the righteous Judge would try me once more; if he would but reprieve, and spare me a little longer, in what a spirit would I spend the remainder of my days! I would know no other business, aim at no other end, than perfecting myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to that every means of grace, every opportunity of spiritual improvement-should be dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas! why do I amuse myself with fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now insignificant, because they are too late. The day in which I should have worked is over and gone, and I see a sad, horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness forever. Heretofore,-wo is me!-when God called I refused; when he invited, I was one of them that made excuse. Now, therefore, I receive the reward of my deeds; fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, I smart, and am in sore anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what I shall be; but surely I shall be ruined, undone, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction!'

"This sad scene I saw with mine eyes; these words, and many more equally affecting, I heard with mine ears; and soon after attended the unhappy gentleman to his tomb."