a 
Life and Character of Nathaniel Bowditch. ~ At 
Why should I not still be lasiaicis? and happy, and confide in his 
goodness?” 
Dr. Bowditch was very familiar with the Scriptures, both of 
the Old and New Testaments, more so than some professed theo- 
logians who make it their special study. He had read the Bible 
in his childhood, under the eye of a pious mother, and he loved 
bag quote and repeat the sublime and touching ace 3 of Holy 
Such had been the life, and such the character of this distin- 
guished man; and such was he to the last, through all the ago- 
nies of a most distressing illness. In the midst of health and 
usefulness, in the full discharge of the duties of life, and in the 
full enjoyment of its satisfactions, the summons suddenly comes 
to him to leave it. And he meets the summons with the utmost 
equanimity and composure, with the submission of a philosopher 
and with the resignation of a Christian. He certainly had much 
to live for—few have more—but he gave up all without repining 
or complaint. He said he should have liked to live a little longer, 
to complete his great work, and see his younger children grown 
up and settled in life. - “But I am perfectly happy,” he added, 
“and ready to go, and entirely resigned to the will of Provi- 
dence.” He arranged all his affairs, gave his directions with mi- 
nuteness, and dictated and signed his last will and testament. 
While his strength permitted, he continued to attend to the ne- 
cessary affairs of his office, and on the day previous to his death, 
put his name to an important instrument. In the intervals of 
pain, he prepared, as I have already remarked, the remaining 
copy, and corrected the proof-sheets, of the fourth volume of his 
great work, the printing of which was nearly finished. at the 
time of his death. _ It is a little remarkable that the last page that 
he read was the one thousandth: It was gratifying to him to 
find that his mind was unenfeebled by disease and pain; and one 
day, after solving one of the hardest problems in the book, he ex- 
claimed, in his ‘exuluumnetic way, “I feel that I am Nathaniel 
Bowditch still—only a little weaker.” 
He continued, indeed, in all respects, the same man to the last. 
He did not think that this was the time to put on a new face or 
assume’a new character. His feelings were unaffected, his man- 
ners unchanged, by the prospect before him. He seemed to 
those about him only to be going on a long journey. ‘To the 
Vout. XXXV.—No. 1 6 
