A CONVERTED NATIVE. 293 
never once heard him murmur. He could scarcely 
find breath to articulate what he wished to say ; 
and when, at length, his speech nearly failed him, 
he would write on a slate what he desired to ex- 
press. — “Mr. Yate,’' he one day said, “are you 
sure that, when I die, my spirit will go to heaven, 
and not to hell ? are you sure that Jesus Christ 
wdll not send me away, as a wicked man who has 
often denied him ? Are you sure that God will 
not be angry with me, and condemn me when he 
is my Judge This question, or rather this series 
of questions, put with great earnestness and sim- 
plicity, I endeavoured at some length to answer. 
When I told him, that if he believed in Christ, he 
would assuredly go to heaven when he died, and 
would be happy for ever; and that Jesus never 
denied any one who loved him ; and that God was 
not angry, and never would be angry, with those 
he found believing in liis dear Son ; his eyes 
sparkled with joy, and he exclaimed, “ Tell me 
again — tell me again ! I want to hear more about 
it !” The bell at this moment rang for evening 
prayers ; and I was obliged to leave him, with a 
promise to see him again, and sit longer with him, 
on the morrow : but the morrow came, and, with 
it, so great an alteration in him for the worsen 
that he did not know who was present, or what 
was said. The weakness of the body overcame 
the strength of the mind ; and he remained in a 
wandering or insensible state, till all sin and 
sorrow, all pain and sickness, were for ever gone. 
