I wept with them, I prayed with them, and every day our mutual attachment acquired new energy. They expressed their wishes to my father, that I should become a permanent resident in their family. My father, apparently terrified, was unqualified in his rejection! It would injure me by too high-raised expectations, it would give me indulgences, fatal to my future peace, and happiness. For myself, I had recently entertained an exalted opinion of my father; and for his repeated, and, as I once believed, severe chastisements, gratitude glowed in my bosom; consequently I was not inclined to act contrary to his wishes in any respect, and he had sufficient address to avoid offending his friends. In fact, so exalted was their opinion of his wisdom, and piety, that they would have considered it criminal to censure him.
I was now the very shadow of my father; I visited, it is true; but it was always under his guardian care. He began to derive pleasure from conversing with me, and our satisfaction was mutual: still, however, I experienced, in his presence, more of reverential awe, than filial tenderness; yet I gained more from his society in the last six months of his existence, than I had for many preceding years. His gradual decline, at length, rapidly advanced; suddenly he became too much enfeebled to go abroad; his friends, who were numerous, visited him frequently. Mr. Little, and lady, were almost constantly with him: they congratulated him, that God had heard his prayers, and given him a son to supply his place, when he should be called home; this, indeed, he considered as a great consolation. Often with tears of pleasure has he wept over me, solemnly consecrating me by fervent prayer, and devout supplication. His devotional exercises, in his family, were continued until the last week of his existence; even when his voice was so low, that he could scarce articulate a word, we were drawn around him, when in whispers, as it were, he would, in the most moving manner, address the throne of grace in our behalf; and for me, as his first-born son, his orisons were still more frequently offered up, and always with tears. For many years my father had lost his apprehensions of death; but he always suffered more or less in the dread of dying. The taking down the house of his earthly tabernacle,—the agonies of dissolving nature,—these anticipations frequently appalled his soul. We had got into passion week; my father was taken from his bed every day, until Good Friday, when it was impressed upon his mind, that he should be with his Redeemer upon Easter Sunday. He indirectly communicated this assurance to my mother; commanding me to be immediately sum-
