The Sun.
London, England, 1845-12-16 00:00:00

his hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor
came in, and saw him in the chair, leasing upon m_y breast,
he felt his pulse, and said, He is a dead man.' Mr. Par-
sons said, I do not believe it ; you must do something
doctor!' He said, • I cannot ; he is now near his last
breath.' And indeed, so it was for he fetched but one gasp,
and stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This war
exactly at six o'clock. We continued rubbing his lags
hands, and feet with warm cloths, and bathed him with
spirits for some time, but all in vain. I then put him into
a warm bel, the doctor standing by, and often raised him
upright, continued rubbing him, and putting spirits to his
nose for an hour, till all hopes were gone. The people came
in crowds to see him; I begged the doctor to shut the
door."

Of the funeral ho says—
" When the corpse was placed at the foot of the pulpit,
close to the vault, the Rev. Daniel Rogers made a very
affecting prayei, and openly confessed, that under God, he
owed his conversion to the labours of that dear man of God,
whose precious remains now lay before them. Then he cried
out, omy father, my father,' then stopped and wept, as
though his heart would break, and the people weeping all
through the place. Then he recovered, and finished his
prayer, and sat down and wept. Then one of the deacons
gave out that hymn,
Why do we mourn departing friends,' &c.,
some of the people weeping, some singing, and so on alter-
nately. The Rey. Mr. Jewel preached a funeral discourse,
and made an affectionate address to his brethren, to lay to
heart the cl,mth of that useful man of God; begging that he
and they might be upon their watch-tower, and endeavour
to follow his blessed example. The corpse was then put into
the vault, and all concluded with a short prayer and dismis
sion of the people, who went weeping through the streets to
their respective places of abode."

The Federal-street Church, where W hitfield was buried,
was but a short distance from the house in which he
died, and on my way to it I stopped at the sexton's
house. That functionary was not at home, but a little
boy came up to me with several keys in his hand, and
said he could show me the church, which he did. There
was not much to see, excepting the Whitefield monu-
ment ; and when I had read the inscription thereon, I
asked the boy to show me the vault.
" No one but father does that," said the boy ; " and
he won't be here this half hour."

"Is there any one about the neighbourhood wl.o
knew Whitefield ?" I asked of him.

" Yes, there's old Sam'l Wilkinson, as lives in next
street—he says he seed'un."
And then, in obedience to my reque..t, the lad piloted
me to the house of a very old man, of whom I inquired
if he had known the great preacher ?
•` Yes," said he, " and I was in the room with :him
just five minutes or so after he died. I was only six
years old then, and I don't know ai I ever went with
the crowds to hear him, but I saw him dead and
buried."

I had further talk with this old Mall, and then went
back to the church, at the door of which I found the sex-
ton waiting for me. He preceded me through the aisle of
the church, and, opening a little narrow door by the side
of the pulpit, we passed into a dim, dingy room behind it,
and from thence, descending four or five steps, found
ourselves in a brick vault, which lay directly under the
pulpit. It was two or three minutes before my eyes got
accustomed to the gloom ; but soon objects became dis-
cernable, and I saw three old coffins, two of them ser-
ving as supports to the third, which lay across them.
One of these coffins contained the remains of the Rev.
Jonathan Parsons, the pastor of the church when
Whitefield was preaching here, and another holds the
bones of the Rev. Joseph Prince, a blind travelling
preacher, who died in 1791, and the third was White-
field's.

Just as if he was going to exhibit some common
curiosity, the sexton trimmed his lamp, then lifted the
lid off an old coffin, and holding the flame dote to it,
said, " Here, look in ;" and then, pointing to a heap of
bones, gathered together at the head of the shell, said, in
a very business-like tone, _ _

" MAT'S THE MAN."

Yes—there lay the man,or, at least, all that remained
of the once mighty preacher. For all I knew, the heap
of dirt, the skull, and the loose bones, might have been
any one else's. But a strange awe came over me at his
words, " That is the man."

I took the skull in my hands and examined it
narrowly. The forehead was rather narrow than broad—
by no means high. I soon put it back again to the coffin,
for I bethought me of Shakspeare's malediction, and felt
as if I had committed sacrilege by touching the precious
relics. It is said that one of the arm bones was stolen,
and is in England. Philip, in his " Life and Times,"
refers to this with jti.t indignation. For my own part,
'lid I know the possessor of it, I would print his name,
for the purpose of shaming him into restoration.
There are some other interesting sepulchres in New-
buryport ; amongst them, the grave of l'homas Parker,
one of the early ministers. Cotton Mather thus quaintly
and beautifully speaks of him :
"He went unto the immortals in April, 1677, in the 82d
year of his age, after he had lived all his days a single man ;
but a great part of his days engaged in Apocalyptic studies,
lie went unto the Apocalyptic virgins who follow the Lamb
whithersoever he goes."
With as anecdote of Whitefield, which, I believe, is
not generally known in England, I conclude this article:
"'ln the last visit but one which Wh4etield paid to
America, he spent a day or two at Princetonomder the roof
of the Rev. Dr. Finley, then president of the college at-that
place. At dinner, the Doctor said, Mr. Whitetield. I hope
it will be very long before you will be called home, but when
that event shall arrive, I should be glad to hear the 'noble
testimony you will bear for God.' You would be disap-
pointed, doctor,' said Whitetield, I shall die silent. It has
pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for him
during my life, that he will require Lone from me when I die.
No, no. It is your dumb Christian., that have walked in
fear and darkness, and thereby been unable to bear a testi-
mony for God during their lives, that he compels to speak out
for him on their death-beds.' "

This anecdote was related a few months ago to a gen-
tleman of New York, by an individual now living, who
was then a student in the college, and a boarder in Dr.
Finley's family. The manner of Whitefield's death ful-
filled his prediction. WHIZ.