story be true (which I think there can be no room to doubt, as the Colonel, from whom I have often heard it, though absent, could scarcely be misinformed), it might more properly be said that he fell by his own vanity; in which view I thought it so remarkable, as not to be unworthy a place in these memoirs.

§ 22. The Captain quickly returned, and continued, with small interruptions, at Paris, at least till the year 1720, and how much longer, I do not certainly know. The Earl's favour and generosity made him easy in his affairs, though he was (as has been observed above) part of the time out of commission, by breaking the regiment to which he belonged, of which before he was Major. This was, in all probability, the gayest part of his life, and the most criminal. Whatever wise and good examples he might find in the family where he had the honour to reside, it is certain that the French court, during the regency of the Duke of Orleans, was one of the most dissolute under heaven. What, by a wretched abuse of language, have been called intrigues of love and gallantry, were so entirely to the Major's then degenerate taste, that, if not the whole business, at least the whole happiness of his life consisted in them; and he had now too much leisure for one who was so prone to abuse it. His fine constitution, than which perhaps there was hardly ever a better, gave him great opportunities of indulging himself in these excesses; and his good spirits enabled him to pursue his pleasures of every kind, in so alert and sprightly a manner, that multitudes envied him, and called him, by a dreadful kind of compliment, the happy rake.

§ 23. Yet still the checks of conscience, and some remaining principles of so good an education, would break in upon his most licentious hours; and I particularly remember, he told me, that when some of his dissolute companions were once congratulating him or his distinguished felicity, a dog happening at that time to come into the room, he could not forbear groaning inwardly, and saying to himself, "Oh that I were that dog!" Such was then his happiness; and such perhaps is that of hundreds more, who bear themselves highest in the contempt of religion, and glory in that infamous servitude, which they affect to call liberty. But these remonstrances of reason and conscience were in vain; and, in short, he carried things so far in this wretched part of his life, that I am well assured, some sober English gentlemen, who made no great pretences to religion, how agreeable soever he might have been to them on other accounts, rather declined than sought his company, as fearing they might have been ensnared and corrupted by it.

$24. Yet I cannot find, that in these most abandoned days, he was fond of drinking. Indeed he never had any natural relish for that kind of intemperance, from which he used to think a manly pride might be sufficient to preserve persons of sense and spirit; as, by it they give up every thing that distinguishes them from the meanest of their species, or indeed from animals the most below it; so that if he ever fell into any excesses of this kind, it was merely out of complaisance to his company, and that he might not appear stiff and singular. His frank, obliging, and generous temper, procured him many friends; and these principles, which rendered him amiable to others, not being under the direction true of wisdom and piety, sometimes made him, in the ways of living he pursued, more uneasy to himself than he might perhaps have been, if he could entirely have outgrown them; especially, as he was never a sceptic in his principles, but still retained a secret apprehension, that natural and revealed religion, though he did not much care to think of either, were founded in truth. And with this conviction, his notorious violations of the most essential precepts of both, could not but occasion some secret misgivings of heart. His continual neglect of the Great Author of his being, of whose perfections he could not doubt, and to whom he knew himself to be under daily and perpetual obligations, gave him, in some moments of involuntary reflection, inexpressible remorse; and this, at times, wrought upon him to such a degree, that he resolved he would attempt to pay him some acknowledgments. Accordingly, for a few mornings, he did it; repeating, in retirement, some passages out of the psalms, and perhaps other scriptures, which he still retained in his memory; and owning, in a few strong words, the many mercies and deliverances he had received, and the ill returns he had made for them.

§ 25. I find among the other papers transmitted to me, the following verses, which I have heard him repeat, as what had impressed him a good deal in his unconverted state: and, as I suppose, they did something towards setting him on this effort towards devotion, and might probably furnish out a part of these orisons, I hope I need make no apology to my reader for inserting them, especially as I do not recollect, that I have seen them any where else:

Attend my soul! The early birds inspire
My groveling thoughts with pure celestial fire:
They from their temperate sleep awake, and pay
Their thankful anthems for the new-born day.

See, how the tuneful lark is mounted high,
And poet-like, salutes the eastern sky!
He warbles through the fragrant air his lays,
And seems the beauties of the morn to praise.
But man, more void of gratitude, awakes,
And gives no thanks for the sweet rest he takes;
Looks on the glorious sun's new kindled flame
Without one thought of him, from whom it came.
The wretch unhallow'd does the day begin;
Shakes off his sleep, but shakes not off his sin,

§ 26. But these strains were too devout to continue long in a heart, as yet, quite unsanctified; for how readily soever he could repeat such acknowledgments of the divine power, presence, and goodness, and own his own follies and faults, he was stopt short by the remonstrances of his conscience, as to the flagrant absurdity of confessing sins, he did not desire to forsake; and of pretending to praise God for his mercies, when he did not endeavour to live to his service, and to behave in such a manner, as gratitude, if sincere, would plainly dictate. A model of devotion, where such sentiments made no part, his good sense could not digest; and the use of such language before an heart-searching God, merely as an hypocritical form, while the sentiments of his soul were contrary to it, justly appeared to him such daring profaneness, that, irregular as the state. of his mind was, the thought of it struck him with horror. He therefore determined to make no more attempts of this sort; and was perhaps one of the first that deliberately laid aside prayer, from some sense of God's omniscience, and some natural principle of honour and conscience.

27. These secret debates with himself, and ineffectual efforts, would sometimes return: but they were overborne again and again by the force of temptation; and it is no wonder, that, in consequence of them, his heart grew yet harder, Nor was it softened or awakened by some very memorable deliverancès, which at this time he received. He was in extreme danger by a fall from his horse, as he was riding post (I think, in the streets of Calais), when going down a hill, the horse threw him over his head, and pitched over him; so that, when he rose, the beast lay beyond him, and almost dead. Yet, though he received not the least harm, it made no serious impression on his mind. In his return from England in the packet boat (if I remember right, but a few weeks after the former accident), a violent storm, that drove them up to Harwich, tossed them from thence, for several hours in a dark night on the coast of Holland, and brought them into such extremity,

that the captain of the vessel urged him to go to prayers immediately, if he ever intended to do it at all; for he concluded, they would in a few minutes be at the bottom of the sea. In this circumstance he did pray, and that very fervently too; and it was very remarkable, that while he was crying to God for deliverance, the wind fell, and quickly after, they arrived at Calais. But the Major was so little affected with what had befallen him, that when some of his gay friends, on hearing the story, rallied him upon the efficacy of his prayers, he excused himself from the scandal of being thought much in earnest, by saying, "That it was midnight, and an hour, when his good mother and aunt were asleep, or else he should have left that part of the business to them." A speech, which I should not have mentioned, but as it shows, in so lively a view, the wretched situation of his mind at that time, though his great deliverance from the power of darkness was then nearly approaching. He recounted these things to me with the greatest humility, as showing how utterly unworthy he was of that miracle of divine grace, by which he was quickly after brought to so true and so prevalent a sense of religion.

28. And now I am come to that astonishing part of his story, the account of his conversion; which I cannot enter upon, without assuring the reader, that I have sometimes been tempted to suppress many circumstances of it; not only, as they may seem incredible to some, and enthusiastical to others, but as I am very sensible, they are liable to great abuses; which was the reason that he gave me for concealing the most extraordinary from many persons, to whom he mentioned some of the rest. And I believe it was this, together with the desire of avoiding every thing, that might look like ostentation on this head, that prevented his leaving a written account of it; though I have often entreated him to do it; as I particularly remember I did in the very last letter, I ever wrote him; and pleaded the possibility of his falling amidst those dangers, to which I knew his valour might in such circumstances naturally expose him. I was not so happy as to receive any answer to this letter, which reached him but a few days before his death; nor can I certainly say, whether he had or had not complied with my request, as it is very possible, a paper of that kind, if it were written, might be lost amidst the ravages, which the rebels made, when they plundered Bankton.

§ 29. The story, however, was so remarkable, that I had little reason to apprehend, I should ever forget it; and yet, to guard against all contingencies of that kind, I wrote it down. that very evening, as I heard it from his own mouth: And I

have now before me the memoirs of that conversation, dated August 14, 1739, which conclude with these words, (which I added; that, if we should both have died that night, the world might not have lost this edifying and affecting history, or have wanted any attestation of it, I was capable of giving): "N. B. I have written down this account with all the exactness I am capable of, and could safely take an oath of it, as to the truth of every circumstance, to the best of my remembrance, as the Colonel related it to me a few hours ago." I do not know that I had reviewed this paper since I wrote it, till I set myself thus publicly to record this extraordinary fact; but I find it punctually to agree with what I have often related from my memory, which I charged carefully with so wonderful and important a fact. It is with all solemnity, that I now deliver it down to posterity, as in the sight and presence of God; and I chose deliberately to expose myself to those severe censures, which the haughty, but empty scorn of infidelity, or principles nearly approaching it, and effectually doing its pernicious work, may very probably dictate upon the occasion, rather than to smother a relation, which may, in the judgment of my conscience, be like to conduce so much to the glory of God, the honour of the gospel, and the good of mankind. One thing more I will only premise, that I hope, none who have heard the Colonel himself speak something of this wonderful scene, will be surprised if they find some new circumstances here; because he assured me, at the time he first gave me the whole narration (which was in the very room in which I now write), that he had never imparted it so fully to any man living before. Yet, at the same time, he gave me full liberty to communicate it to whomsoever I should in my conscience judge, it might be useful to do it, whether before or after his death. Accordingly, I did, while he was alive, recount almost every circumstance I am now going to write, to several pious friends; referring them at the same time to the Colonel himself, whenever they might have an opportunity of seeing or writing to him, for a farther confirmation of what I told them, if they judged it requisite. They glorified God in him; and I humbly hope, many of my readers will also do it. They will soon perceive the reason of so much caution in my introduction to this story, for which therefore I shall make no further apology *.

* It is no small satisfaction to me, since I wrote this, to have received a letter from the Rev. Mr. Spears, minister of the gospel at Burntisland, dated January 14, 1746-7, in which he relates to me this whole story, as he had it from the Colonel's own mouth, about four years after he gave me the narration. There is not a single