of the superintendent and chaplain of the prison at Auburn but with tears of thankful and affectionate remembrance. Of Mr. Dwight, who so often visited him both in prison and after his release, he always spoke in terms of ardent attachment, calling him uniformly "My friend Mr. Doit." To him he consented to bequeath his "prison Bible," as he called it, when he should die. While every thing was manly and decorous, there was a touching tenderness and warmth of interest and love for his ministers and those Christian friends who were accustomed to see him most often and to inquire after his spiritual prosperity.
Last summer I requested him to give me the history of his whole life. At first he hesitated and positively declined, saying, "It distresses me to think of it." And his whole frame seemed to tremble, as his eye rested upon me, as if he was astonished that I should ask him to rehearse his crimes. I told him it might do good, and that I would make no improper use of it. He then consented, and went
