"This was near three o'clock. At a quarter past four he awoke, and said, 'My asthma, my asthma is coming on; I wish I had not given out word to preach at Haverhill on Monday; I don't think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take two or three days' ride!' He then desired me to warm him a little gruel; and in breaking the fire-wood, I waked Mr. Parsons, who thinking I knocked for him, rose and came in. He went to Mr. Whitefield's bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, 'I am almost suffocated. I can scarcely breathe, my asthma quite chokes me.' I was then not a little surprised to hear how quickly, and with what difficulty he drew his breath. He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o'clock. I went to him, and for about the space of five minutes saw no danger, only that he had a great difficulty in breathing, as I had often seen before. Soon afterwards, he turned himself to me, and said, '_I am dying_.' I said, 'I hope not, sir.' He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. It was agreed that I should go for Dr. Sawyer; and on my coming back, I saw death on his face; and he again said, '_I am dying_.' His eyes were fixed, his underlip drawing inward every time he drew breath. I persuaded him to sit down in the chair, and have his cloak on; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him a glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. He went towards the window, and we offered him some warm wine, with lavender drops, which he refused. "In a little time he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I then began to have some small hopes. Mr. Parsons said he thought Mr. Whitefield breathed more freely than he did, and would recover. I said, 'No, sir, he is certainly dying.' I was continually employed in taking the phlegm out of his mouth with a handkerchief, and bathing his temples with drops, rubbing his wrists, etc., to give him relief, if possible, but all in vain; his hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came in, and saw him in the chair leaning upon my breast, he felt his pulse, and said, 'He is a dead man.' Mr. Parsons said, 'I do not believe it; you must do something, doctor.' He said, 'I cannot; he is now near his last breath.' And so indeed it was; for he fetched but one gasp, and stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at six o'clock. We continued rubbing his legs, hands, and feet, with warm cloths, and bathed him with spirits for some time, but all in vain. I then put him into a warm bed, the doctor standing by, and often raised him upright, continued rubbing him and putting spirits to his nose for an hour, till all hopes were gone. The people came in crowds to see him."