passing his design, and prompted and bribed him for that end; which falshood he would never be guilty of, if he had never so many lives to lose. He understood, he said, that the lieutenant had been tampered with, and, by promises of a decent burial, enticed to confess things notoriously false; as that he should shew the said lieutenant a letter, signed hy Count Coningsmark, to engage him in the business, and offer him money to stab Mr. Thynn, &c. But, as for his part, he was resolved to confess no more, than he had already declared publickly before the council.

I let him run on, and then told him, that he was much mistaken in the divines of the church of England, who neither used to reveal private confessions, nor oblige offenders, in such cases, to confess things contrary to truth; that this was both against their practice and their principles: the confession, I said, he was so often exhorted to, was no private, but a publick confession; for, as his crime had been publick, so his repentance and confession ought to be publick too; and in that he was loth to come to it, he gave us but too much occasion to suspect, that his pretended repentance was not sincere and cordial. I told him, that in such wrongs and injuries as he had done, there was either restitution or satisfaction to be made; at which word he replying, how could he make restitution, now Mr. Thynn was dead? I answered, because he could not make restitution, that therefore he should make some satisfac tion; and this he might do, by a free and full confession of his sin, and of the cause of it, and who they were that put him upon it. I added, that, where true repentance melts the heart, after such commissions, there the true penitent was readier to accuse himself than others to charge him with the crime, and would have that ab. horrency of the sin, that he would conceal nothing, that served either to aggravate, or expose it to the hatred of all mankind; and that it was an injustice to the publick, not to betray the accomplices, and assistants, and occasions, in such heinous offences. I told him, he seemed to talk too high for a true penitent, for those, that were truly so, were exceeding humble, not only to God, but to men too; and one part of their humility to men was, to confess to them, and to their relations, the wrong they had done them: whereupon he answered, that it was enough for him to be humble to God, but he knew of no humility he owed to man; and God, he believed, had a greater favour for gentlemen, than to require all these punctilioes at their hands; and that it was absurd to think, that so many thousand gentlemen, abroad in the world, that stood upon their honour and reputation as much as he, should be damned, or for ever miserable, because they cannot stoop to things, which will prejudice and spoil the figure they make in the world. As for his part, he said, he believed Christ's blood had washed away his sins, as well as other men's, for on this errand he came into the world, to save sinners; he was, indeed, sorry Mr. Thynn was dead, but that was all he could do. I told him, that Christ's blood was actually applied to none but the true penitent; and that true repentance must discover itself n meekness, humility, tender-heartedness, compassion, righteousness,

making ingenuous confessions, and, so far as we are able, satisfac tion too, else, notwithstanding the treasure of Christ's blood, men might drop into hell.

Upon this he replied, that he feared no hell. I answered, pos sibly he might believe none, or, if he did, it might be a very easy one of his own making. He said, he was not such a fool, as to believe that souls could fry in material fire, or be roasted, as meat, on a great hearth, or in a kitchen, pointing to the chimney. His belief was, that the punishment of the damned consisted in a deprivation of the gracious and beatifick presence of God; upon which deprivation, there arose a terror and anguish in their souls, because they had missed of so great a happiness. He added, that possibly I might think him to be an atheist, but he was so far from those thoughts, that he could scarce believe there was any man so sottish in the world, as not to believe the being of a God, gracious and just, and generous to his creatures; nor could any man, that was not either mad or drunk, believe things came fortuitously, or that this world was governed by chance. I said, that this truth I approved of, and was glad to see him so well settled in the reason. ableness of that principle: and, as for material fire in the other world, I would not quarrel with him for denying it, but rather hold with him, that the fire and brimstone, spoken of in Scripture, were but emblems of those inward terrors, which would gnaw and tear the consciences of impenitent sinners; but still this was a greater punishment than material fire, and this punishment he had reason to fear, if he could not make it out to me, or other men, that his repentance was sincere.

Hereupon he grew sullen, and some good books lying upon the table, one of which was Arnt's True Christianity, he turned away from me, and seemed to read in it; and, after a short pause, he told me, that he understood the Lieutenant's papers were to be printed, wherein there would be part of Count Coningsmark's letter, with some other circumstances, reflecting on the Count and him. self; but, if they were printed, he would print his own story too, which should undeceive the world, in the fancies and opinons, the Lieutenant's papers should draw them into; and, in that paper, he would set forth the behaviour and manners of the English clergy, and the strange ways and methods they take, with poor prisoners, to extort confessions from them. As for the Lieutenant, he said, he was a fellow that was poor and wretched, and, by his means kept from starving, and sometimes he was not well in his wits; that himself was a gentleman, and a man of an estate, and should leave great sums of money behind him; and that no English gentleman would have been so coarsly used in his country, meaning Pomerania, as he hath been in this; and, if the Lieutenant persisted in his falsities, he would die with a lye in his mouth. I said, it was not probable that a dying man, and a man that was so very sensible of his sins, and who had betrayed nothing of any disorder in his carri age, during his imprisonment, should tell and aver things, which he knew to be untrue. He said, it was no strange thing, in England,

for dying men to speak notorious untruths, there being not a few examples of those who had lately done so. I told him, it would be very fit that the Lieutenant and he should speak together, and Captain Richardson, I thought, would send him presently. With that he grew angry, and replied, he had nothing to say to him, nor did he care for seeing him, nor for being troubled with any English divines; they being men too inquisitive and meddling with things that belonged not unto them; and hereupon he turned away from me again to the book that lay upon the table.

By and by the Lieutenant came in, with a penitent countenance, and a mortified look; the Captain, seeing him, grew presently cho lerick, and retired into a corner of the room, and then asked him, what he came to trouble him for? He did not care for the sight of him, especially since he had bespattered him so notoriously with untruths. The Lieutenant very meekly told him, that they had not long to live, and therefore he was come to admonish him to repent of what he had done, and to tell him, that he freely forgave him the wrong he had done him, by drawing him into the late unhappy action. The Captain hereupon called him lyar, and asked him, how he durst vent such abominable lyes concerning him and Count Coningsmark; how he could have the confidence to tell men, that he shewed him a letter of the Count's, in order to engage him; and of four hundred pounds, that he should offer him, to stab Mr. Thynn, and talk sometimes of four-hundred, and sometimes of twohundred pounds, which was a perfect contradiction; and if, saith he, I had been so base or foolish, as to make you such an offer, you, that were the elder man, and may be supposed to have had more wit than myself, why did not you chide and reprove me, for tempting you to such dishonesty? One would think you are distracted, or had a soft place in your head: is this your gratitude to a person that hath relieved you, and done you kindnesses? And are you not afraid to die with a lye in your mouth? Here I interposed, and told the Captain, that this wrath and anger was but an ill preparation for another world, and that greater meekness and charity would become a dying man. To this he answered, it is you divines that are the causes of this passion, by obliging people to confess more than is true. The Lieutenant, all this while, heard the Captain very patiently; professed that this was the first time that he was called lyar to his face; and that, which formerly he could not have endured from the greatest man, he was very willing to bear now, out of respect to that God, from whom he expected pardon of his sins. And, as for what he had said and confessed to other men, he took God to witness, that it was nothing but truth; and though it was possible, in his confessions, he might mistake pounds for dollars, that being the word commonly used in telling money in England, as dollar is in Germany, yet he meant nothing by it but dollars; and 'what he had said of the different sums, was very true, for at one time he had offered him two-hundred, at another four-hundred, so that could be no contradiction. The Captain, notwithstanding this, still called him lyar, and ungrateful, while the Lieutenant stood before

him, talking with great meekness and humility, and, for the most part, with his hat off, and saying to him: You know, and your conscience knows the truth of these things; why would you offer me these sums? You know you made me these offers; God forgive you, and I forgive you. This said, when the Lieutenant saw that his speaking did but inrage him more, he took his leave, wishing him a sight of the error of his ways. The Lieutenant being gone, I stayed, hoping this religious confidence of the Lieutenant might work the Captain into remorse, but it was all in vain: I persisted in my former assertions, that repentance could not be true, which was not attended with meekness, humility, and patience; but he turning from me, and looking into his book, and refusing to give me an answer, I left him too, wishing him a better mind.

From thence I went up to the penitent Lieutenant, where I found the Polonian too. I told the Lieutenant, I was heartily glad to see his christian behaviour under reproaches, and nothing pleased me more in matters of repentance, than humility and patience under injuries, a thing absolutely necessary, where we have to deal with God, who hath been for many years patient, under the injuries we have offered to his Majesty. He then vented some comfortable ejaculations, and expressed how freely he forgave that stubborn man, whom no intreaties or arguments could work upon. And while Dr. Burnet went with the Lieutenant to the fire-side, I entered into discourse with the Polonian, who gave me his confession in HighDutch, written from his own mouth by the Lieutenant, and signed by him the Polonian. I asked him, whether, as he hoped for mercy of the great God, he believed the things said, in that confession, to be true or no? He answered yes; whereupon, to be fully satis fied, I desired a German gentleman then present to read it over again in his, and my hearing, and to read it distinctly, that in case there were any mistakes in it, he might rectify it; for as I was willing, I said, he should clear himself, so I should be sorry he should asperse another man, or say any thing of him, that might unjustly reflect upon his reputation. He promised me, that he would attend carefully, and take notice of every expression, which accordingly he did; and, finding a mistake in the paper, in point of time, he immediately gave notice of it, which I caused to be rectified; and having heard it read over before him, I charged him once more, as he was to give an account to God, in a day or two, to tell me, whether things were carried on, and managed in those circumstances, as are mentioned in the paper? To which he religiously answered in the affirmative. I asked him thereupon, how long he had been a Protestant of the Augsbourg confession, for he had been bred a Papist? To which he answered, ever since his last sickness; which, as I remember, he said, was about Michaelmas last; when being told, that the Protestant religion was more conformable to the Word of God, he consented to embrace it, and hath kept to it ever since. I demanded of him to tell me seriously, whether he had not led a very debauched life formerly, which made him venture upon that late inhuman enterprise; he told me no, and that he had

been so far from committing any such crime heretofore, that he had had the good fortune to live with masters, who were sober, and men that were enemies to disorder and debauchery; that, according to his capacity, he had always made conscience of grosser sins, and had been very punctual in saying those prayers he had been taught, either by his parents, or such persons as he conversed with; and that Captain Vrats, when he bid him shoot Mr. Thynn, told him, that it was here, as it was in Poland, where the servant, that doth his master's command in such cases, is blameless, and the master bears all the burden; and that prevailed with him, tho' he found no small reluctancy in his breast, and pleaded with the Captain about the heinousness of shedding innocent blood. I then endeavoured to find out what kind of repentance he felt in himself, whether it proceeded from fear of a shameful death, or from an hatred of sin, and love to God; whereupon he gave me such an account as his honest simplicity dictated to him, and said, that, if he were to live any longer in this world, he verily thought this one sin would keep his soul so awake for the future, that it would not be an easy matter to make him act again, against his conscience. This had rouzed him, and he now perceived the sweetness of a good life, and keeping close to the ways of God. He was sensible he had deserved the punishment, the law would inflict upon him; and all his confidence was in the blood of Jesus, who knew how he was drawn in, and the plainness of his temper, wrought upon by the Captain's subtlety; however, he freely forgave him, and commended his soul into the hands of God. And here ended my conference with the respective prisoners; having wished them the powerful assistance of God's holy spirit, I took my leave of them. The Lieutenant, who in repeated words expressed his honest design, in having the following papers published, desired me to go with him, on Friday following, to the place of execution, there to tell the spectators what he should think fit to say to them: I told him I would very readily oblige him in his request, but that I was bound to preach that very morning, and that very hour, when he should be led to the place of execution; however, Dr. Burnet, who had been his spiritual father all along, would not fail to do that last office for him, in which he rested satisfied; and with all hu. mility, in a penitent posture, bid us adieu.

In the translation of the following papers, I could not be curious in the stile, because I was forced to keep to the simplicity of the Lieutenant's expressions. He writ not to shew his learning, but his piety; having never been brought up to letters, rhetorick is not a thing that can be expected from him. Truth sounds better from a plain man, than from an orator; and the less ornament there is in a dying person's discourse, the less it will be suspected of hypocrisy. The expressions used here speak his heart more than his fancy, and when a man is preparing for a tremendous eternity, it would be foolish to study eloquence. The words here are not chosen, but flow naturally; and the honesty of his soul dwells in the home-spun meditations. To have affected better language, than himself used, had been injustice; and to say in English what he had not said in