existed in his time, otherwise we know how greedily he would have adopted and supported by his money and labour, any cause so likely (as I trust all these will) to promote the interests of his blessed Master on earth. But in every other work and labour of love, Mr. Stevens and Mr. Bowdler ever went hand in hand, provoking one another to Christian love and good works. Time and space will not allow me to enumerate the twentieth part of the Christian labours, and pious deeds, in which this lately departed, and faithful steward of the manifold gifts of God was engaged. But I hope this pleasing task will be soon performed by one well qualified to discharge it. To write the life of Mr. Bowdler without eulogy is impossible; nor is it fitting that it should; for the life of a good man is public property; they are doubtless sent by God into the world, as Mr. Stevens and Mr. Bowdler have been, as burning and shining lights, by the lustre of their bright example, both in devotion and charity, to turn many to righteousness, to strengthen the virtuous by their conduct, and to bring back the feet of the wanderer into the way of peace. We are all sent into the world, if we conduct ourselves in it as we ought, to let our light shine before men, not for our own glory, nor to puff ourselves with vanity, or a fond conceit of ourselves, but that mankind may, by the influence of our example, and by seeing our good works, be led to glorify our Father who is in heaven. Besides, I am one of those who think with Felltham, in the beautiful quotation from him, in the title page of this little work, that "he, who derires that the table of his life may be fair, will be careful to propose to himself the best examples; and will never be content till he equals or excels them." The writer of these lines, who pays this small tribute to departed excellence, passed one hour in the chamber of this dear friend, six weeks before his death, when, though nature was quite exhausted, the mind was as free, and all his kindly affections for the Church, his friends and the poor, as perfect as ever. An hour, more melancholy, in looking at all that was earthly in it, but more delightful in beholding all the ruling passion strong in death, I never expect to behold again. It is gone; but the fragrance and remembrance of it is sweet. Mr. Bowdler expressed great anxiety to explain to me, which he did as fully as his bodily strength would permit, all that he had contemplated respecting those objects of bounty nearest his heart: he recounted the great mercies of God towards him, in his fortune and family: his entire acquiescence and resignation to the will of God; his freedom from pain, though in a few days to depart; his perfect possession of his faculties, and the peace of mind with which it now pleased God to bless him. And he added, with much feeling and pathos, both in matter and manner, that though the change he was soon to undergo was awful, and one which he had once contemplated with horror, he blessed God that those horrors were considerably abated, and that he began to feel what it is reported the great and good Sir William Forbes said in his last moments, "that from his experience the bed of death had no terrors: that, in the hour when it was most wanted, there was mercy from the Most High, and that some change took place, which fitted the soul to meet its God." I own, during the whole of my stay in this interesting chamber, which was the last time I was ever to see my friend, with whom I had been intimate for thirty years, many parts of that beautiful passage of Young, were frequently recalled to my mind, as most forcibly describing the situation and character of my dear and much valued Mr. Bowdler, "The chamber, where the good man meets his fate, Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven." And again "You see the man, you see his hold on heaven: I returned home, reflecting deeply on the interesting scene I had just quitted, I trust its effects will never be eradicated from my mind. The very day, nay, a very few hours, before this excellent man rendered up his spirit to God, who gave it, namely, on Sunday night, the 29th of June, another friend of his and mine sat with him for an hour and a half, when there appeared the same energy of mind, the same piety to God, the same gratitude to Him for all his mercies, both spiritual and temporal, or, as he beautifully and affectionately expressed himself, for having given him dutiful children, an affectionate and amiable wife, tenderly solicitous and beloved friends, attentive servants, and, above all, a most gracious and merciful God, who had bestowed all these blessings upon him, and had smoothed the pangs of death. After this friend departed, between eight and nine o'clock, (his son, the Rev. Thomas Bowdler, after administering the sacrament to this dying saint, which he had done weekly during his illness, having been obliged to leave him for the performance of his own clerical duties,) a lady in the house, who had constantly attended his dying bed with the most filial assiduity, though no relation, read to him those very prayers from the office for the Visitation of the Sick, with which good Mr. Bowdler himself had solaced the dying moments of his dear friend, Mr. Stevens. After two o'clock in the morning, this most exemplary Christian never spoke again, but it is evident, from what passed, that all his mental faculties remained, for he several times tenderly embraced his friends, and his eyes and hands frequently were lifted up, as if in acts of devotion, till about eleven o'clock on Monday forenoon, almost imperceptibly, without a struggle or a groan, he resigned his pure soul into his Maker's hands. He is buried in Eltham Church Yard, the parish where he latterly lived, near to his amiable departed friend, Dr. George Horne, the late Lord Bishop of Norwich, the cousin of good Mr. Stevens. We have thus seen how much Mr. Bowdler was blessed in his life and in his death, a death of all others, for which he most ardently prayed, and as he has died in peace, we may humbly and confidently trust, that he will rest in hope, and rise in glory. THE END. Printed by R. Gilbert, St. John's-square, London. 1. A VOYAGE round the WORLD, in the Years 1740, 1741, 1742, 1743, 1744, by George Anson, Esq. afterwards Lord Anson, Commander in Chief of a Squadron of His Majesty's Ships sent upon an Expedition to the South Seas. Compiled from his Papers and Materials. By Richard Walter, M.A. Chaplain of his Majesty's Ship the Centurion, in that Expedition. In one volume, 12mo. A new Edition, with a Map shewing the Track of the Centurion round the World. 5s. 6d. bound. 2. 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