


DEATH viewed as SLEEP. 
A Dearn-pen’s the detector of the heart. 
Here tir’d dissimulation drops her mask, 
Through life’s grimace that mistress of the scene ; 
Herne “real” and “‘ apparent’’ are the same. 
YOUNG. 
DEATH, when unmask’d, shows us a friendly face, 
And is a terror only at a distance. 

GoLDsMITH. 
. NEQUAL as any man must be 
® to discuss the many feelings 
experienced by a person on 
the bed of death, yet it is 
quite allowable,—nay more, 
desirable, to let the subject 
occupy much of our waking 
thoughts. “We must all 
die,’ and therefore the topic cannot be 
deemed irrelevant. 
In our intercourse with society, it is not 
unusual for us to meet with many indivi- 
duals of a most gloomy turn of mind; and 
we generally find that the morbid feeling ori- 
ginates in an undue excitement of the brain. 
The fact is, people will meddle with what 
is far above their comprehension; and thus 
do they become puzzled,—perplexed,— 
frightened. 
Nearly all the recorded cases of suicide, 
and at least one half the cases of lunacy, 
have their origin in a diseased state of the 
brain, induced by an unwise and an unlawful 
inquiry into what awaits us hereafter. This 
is too much encouraged, we regret to say, by 
those who set themselves up for teachers in 
a matter of which they know positively 
nothing. Hence the unwholesome state of 
mind and body—both among the clergy and 
the laity ; amongst the former, suicides have 
recently been very frequent. 
The prevailing superstition among most 
classes is, that the Creator is austere; and 
that he requires of us, by way of sacrifice, 
things inconsistent with our temporal happi- 
ness ; and this, with a view to our ensuring 
perfect happiness hereafter. Then do they 
read, and read, and read; until they become 
lost ina labyrinth. They imagine all sorts 
of things by turn, until they grow nervous ; 
denying themselves many a lawful pleasure, 
and giving themselves up to the strangest 
of delusions. Many of the doctrines of the 
present day with respect to religion, are 
outrageously absurd; and as dangerous to 
society as they are dishonoring to the God of 
Heaven. The newspapers teem, week after 
week, with the awful consequences of these 
absurdities. It is not religion that drives 
people mad; and impels them to commit 
suicide. Certainly not. It is the want of 
it. People will pry into futurity, and they 
pay the penalty of their rashness. 
We have offered these few remarks by way 
of introduction to our subject. We want to 
show that death itself is not painful, and that 


Vor. LY.—2: 
KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL, 





17 

In 
Scripture, it is beautifully designated Sleep— 
a word kindly used, and which ought amongst 
reflecting minds to be most thankfully trea- 
sured up. It is not the act of dying that 
frightens people; but it is the consequences 
it should not be regarded with alarm. 
of an ill-spent life that they dread. They 
feel they deserve punishment ; and their con- 
science anticipates its righteous administra- 
tion. We have always observed among moral 
people, that those who profess least have been 
the most sincere and upright. Hypocrisy 
may succeed in life; but it renders a death- 
bed terrible. We have witnessed awful ex- 
amples of this. 
Our pen has ever been raised against this 
mental fallacy, and we shall never desert the 
good cause we have undertaken. We profess 
to love God and his children; and to do 
what in us lies to make everybody “happy.” 
This is our “ faith.” Rely on it, such a faith 
will never lead to suicide. Oh, no! But to 
the point. 
The pain of death, says a popular writer, 
must be distinguished from the pain of the 
previous disease; for when life ebbs, sensi- 
bility declines. This is quite true; for as 
death is the final extinction of corporeal feel- 
ings, so numbness increases as death ¢omes 
on. The prostration of disease, like health- 
ful fatigue, engenders a growing stupor—a 
sensation of subsiding softly into a coveted 
repose. The transition resembles what may 
be seen in those lofty mountains, whose sides 
exhibit every climate in regular gradation : 
vegetation luxuriates at their base, and 
dwindles in the approach to the regions of 
snow, till its feeblest manifestation is re- 
pressed by the cold. The so-called agony 
can never be more formidable than when the 
brain is the last to go; and when the mind 
preserves to the end a rational cognisance of 
the state of the body. Yet persons thus 
situated commonly attest, that there are few 
things in life less painful than the close. 
“Tf IT had strength enough to hold a pen,” 
said William Hunter, “I would write how 
easy and delightful it is todie.”” ‘“ If this be 
dying,” said the niece of Newton of Olney, 
“it is a pleasant thing to die.” ‘‘The very 
expression,” adds her uncle, ‘‘ which another 
friend of mine made use of on her death-bed 
a few years ago.”” The same words have so 
often been uttered under similar circum- 
stances, that whole pages might be occupied 
with instances which are only varied by the 
name of thespeaker. “If this be dying,” 
said Lady Glenorchy, ‘‘ it is the easiest thing 
imaginable.” “I thought that dymg had 
been more difficult,” said Louis XIV. “TI 
did not suppose it was so sweet to die,” said 
Francis Suarez, the Spanish theologian. An 
agreeable surprise was the prevailing senti- 
ment with them all; they expected the 

