Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/122

112 power to charm, or even tranquillize, and the torturing sensations I experienced, from reflecting upon past times, were not to be expressed: Death had for me an angel's face, and I viewed this sometimes king of terrors, as my emancipating friend.

The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhausted. Debts crowded upon me. Demands, which I was utterly unable to answer, were continually made. Had the health of my lovely wife been continued, I was in a very fine way. Her sickness, her death, by dashing from me the cup of felicity, while expenses accumulated, debilitated my mind, and rendered me unequal to those efforts, which my exigencies required. In the midst of my supineness, I was taken by a writ, and borne to a spunging-house. My sensations were, on this occasion, very different from those, which I had formerly experienced, in a similar situation; and I derived, from the expected seclusion, a kind of melancholy pleasure. The officer was astonished at my apathy; I refused sustenance, I had no inclination for food. I would swallow nothing, but water. I would have no bed: a bed must be paid for, and I was penniless. I slept on the floor of a room, hung with cobwebs, the windows of which were secured by iron bars. I prayed most fervently to Him, with whom are the issues of life and death, that, as He had not allowed his creatures the privilege of departing out of time, when, and how they pleased, He would graciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance from a world, where I could serve neither my God, my neighbour, nor myself. But, alas! as I have often found, death comes not at call. The barred windows admitted just light enough to announce the return of day; soon after which, the keeper unlocked the door, and in a surly manner, asked me how I did? Indifferent, sir, I replied. "By G—, I think so! but, sir, give me leave to tell you, I am not indifferent, and if you do not very soon settle with your creditors, I shall take the liberty to lodge you in Newgate. I keep nobody in my house that does not spend any thing, damn-me. I cannot keep house, and pay rent, and taxes for nothing. When a gentleman behaves civil, I behave civil; but, damn-me, if they are sulky, why then, do ye see, I can be sulky too; so, sir, you had better tell me what you intend to do?" Nothing. "Nothing? damn-me, that's a good one; then, by G—, you shall soon see I will do something, that you will not very well like." He then turned upon his heel, drew the door with a vengeance, and double-locked it. Soon after this, his helpmate presented herself, and began to apologize for her husband; said he was very quick; hoped I would not be offended, for he was a very good man in the main; that she believed