Wishing to be useful in death as in life, Carlile devoted his body to dissection. Always above superstition, in practice as well as in theory, his wish had long been—that his body, if he died first, should be given to Mr. Lawrence. At that time the prejudice against dissection was almost universal, and only superior persons rose above it. His wish was complied with by his family, and the post mortem examination was published in the _Lancet_ of that year. Carlile’s burial took place at Kensal Green Cemetry. He was laid in the consecrated part of the ground—nearly opposite the Mausoleum of the Ducrow family. At the interment, a clergyman appeared, and with the usual want of feeling and of delicacy, persisted in reading the Church service over him. His eldest son Richard, who represented his sentiments as well as his name, very properly protested against the proceeding, as an outrage upon the principles of his father and the wishes of the family. Of course the remonstrance was disregarded, and Richard, his brothers, and their friends left the ground. The clergyman then proceeded to call Carlile ‘his dear departed brother,’ and to declare that he ‘had died in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection.’ Carlile left six children—Richard, Alfred, and Thomas Paine, by his wife Mrs. Jane Carlile; and Julian, Theophila, and Hypatia, by ‘Isis,’ the lady to whom he united himself after his separation from his wife. Mrs. Carlile survived him only four months. She died in the same house, No. 1, Bouverie Street, and was buried in the same grave. It is hoped that a suitable monument will soon mark the resting place of England’s stoutest champion of free discussion, political and religious. All stories about the recantation of Carlile, to which the pious have given currency, are necessarily false, as he was never able to recant. He lost his power of speaking long before death approached so near as to suggest recanting to him. But death had no power to make his strong spirit quail at ideal terror or to shake the firm convictions of his understanding. His dying words, therefore, are the last which he addressed to the public in his _Christian Warrior_, and they were these—‘The enemy with whom I have to grapple is one with whom _no peace can be made. Idolatry will not parley. Superstition will not treat on covenant. They must be uprooted for public and individual safety_.’(1) 1. Christian Warrior, No. 4 p. 83. These words which he published thirteen days only before his death, are those which he, doubtless, would have pronounced in his last hour, had consciousness and strength remained with him.