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" about to suffer a fhameful death. Yes, “ Sir, you made me a drunkard, a thief, “ and a murderer.”—“ How dare you, “William,” cried Mr. Fantom, with great emotion, “ accuse me with being the cause 56 of such horrid crimes ?"-"Sir,” answered the criminal, “ from you I learned “ the principles which lead to those crimes. “ By the grace of God I should never “ have fallen into fins deserving of the “ gallows, if I had not overheard you say “ there was no hereafter, no judgment, no “ future reckoning. O, Sir! there is a " hell, dreadful, inconceivable, eternal !" Here, through the excess of anguish, the poor fellow fainted away. Mr. Fantom, who did not at all relish this scene, said to his friend, “ Well, Sir, we will go, if you “ please, for you see there is nothing to 6 be done.”
“Sir," replied Mr. Trueman mournfully, “ you may go if you please, but I " shall stay, for I see there is a great deal " to be done:"-" What!” rejoined the
other, “ do you think it possible his life 6 can be saved.”—“ No, indeed,” said Trueman; “ but I hope it is poflible his 6 soul may be saved.”-“I do not under6 stand these things," said Fantom, making toward the door.--Nor I neither," faid Trueman; “ but, as a fellow-finner, “I am bound to do what I can for this “ poor man. Do you go home, Mr. Fan
tom, and finish your Treatise on Uni“ verfal Benevolence and the Blessed Ef“ fects of Philosophy; and hark ye, be “ sure you let the frontispiece of your “ book represent William on the gibbet; " that will be what our minister calls a “ PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATION. You know « I hate theories; this is realizing; this is “ PHILOSOPHY made easy to the meanest “ capacity. This is the precious fruit “ which grows on that darling tree, fo “ many slips of which have been trans“ planted from that land of liberty of 5 which it is the native, but which, with
“all your digging, planting, watering, « dunging, and dressing, will, I trust, never 6 thrive in this blessed land of ours."
Mr. Fantom sneaked off to finish his work at home; and Mr. Trueman staid to finish his in the prison. He passed the night with the wretched convict; he prayed with him and for him, and read to him the penitential psalms, and some portions of the Gospel. But he was too humble and too prudent a man to venture out of his depth by arguments and consolations, which he was not warranted to use: this he left for the clergyman; but he pressed on William the great duty of making the only amends now in his power to those whom he had led astray. They then drew up the following paper, which Mr. Trueman got printed, and gave away at the place of execution.
The last Words, Confession, and dying Specch
of WILLIAM WILSON, who was executed at Chelmsford for murder.
"I was bred up in the fear of God, and "lived with credit in many sober families,
in which I was a faithful fervant; but being tempted by a little h • I left a good place to go and live with • Mr. Fantom, who, however, made good
none of his fine promises, but proved a hard master. Full of fine words and charitable speeches in favour of the poor; but apt to oppress, overwork, and underpay them. In his service I was not allowed time to go to church. This troubled me at first, till I overheard my master say, that going to church was a superstitious prejudice, and only meant for the vulgar. Upon this I resolved to go no more; for I thought there could not be two religions, one for the master, and one for the servant. Finding my master
never prayed, I too left off praying ; this gave Satan great power over me, so that •
I from that time fell into almost every . fin. I was very uneasy at first, and my
conscience gave me no rest; but I was "foon reconciled by overhearing my master
and another gentieman say, that death was only an eternal sleep, and hell and judgment were but an invention of priests
to keep the poor in order. I mention • this as a warning to all masters and mil
treffes to take care what they converse about while servants are waiting at table. • They cannot tell how many fouls they • have sent to perdition by such loose talk.
The crime for which I die is the natural consequence of the principles I learnt of (my master. ` A rich man, indeed, who throws off religion, may escape the gallows, because want does not drive him
to commit those crimes which lead to • it; but what shall restrain a needy man, • who has been taught that there is no • dreadful reckoning? Honesty is but a