Thus he went on for several years, enjoying a state of strong health, and every circumstance which could contribute to his worldly gratification. At length he was attacked by a severe illness. In a few days the progress of disease was rapid;—he was alarmed, and eagerly enquired, whether he was supposed to be in danger. His friends observing his alarm, and fearing a knowledge of his real state would hasten his end, concealed his danger from him, _as is too frequently done_, endeavouring to assure him that his illness would soon abate. At length, he was considered as decidedly past hope of recovery and it was become necessary to acquaint him with his danger. His friends did this in the mildest manner, still endeavouring to buoy up his hopes, and to prevent him from being alarmed; but the truth could be no longer concealed;—_he now saw his awful state_. Instantly he broke out into the most dreadful exclamations, crying out, that _his soul was lost_, and, for some hours, continued to repeat similar expressions, at the same time groaning deeply. After a short interval, he renewed his exclamations, declaring he was now convinced the Bible was true, and that there was reality in religion, and expressed the most earnest desire that his life might be spared for a year, for a month, _or even for a week_, _that he might declare he was convinced of the falsehood of his former opinions_. In this state he continued for some time, when feeling his end approaching, he renewed his earnest wishes, that if he could not be spared for a week, _a day_, _a single day_, might be granted, “that he might warn others, as he himself was going to hell.” At length he cried out, “_I am sinking into hell_!—_Oh_! _the burning_—_the burning_—_the torments of hell_!” This, and similar exclamations, he continued to utter, while life lasted, (for about thirty hours longer,) shrieking and groaning so dreadfully that his friends all fled from his bed-side, and even the nurse, accustomed as she was to death-bed scenes, could scarcely be induced to continue in the room. At length he expired, on the third day after his danger was communicated to him; the whole interval having been a continued scene of horror and despair, which the pen fails to describe, and the imagination is unable fully to conceive. From this dreadful picture, let us turn to a brighter scene—the following extracts present us with an account of the last hours of the learned and excellent Bishop BEDELL. After a life spent in the most laborious service of his Divine Master, when he apprehended his great change to draw near, he called for his family and spake to them, at several times, as he was able, as nearly as could be recollected, in the following words; with many other similar expressions:—