"Monday morning he was greatly weakened, having had little rest all night from the severity of the hiccup. At ten o'clock the physicians again attended; but I could easily perceive they had but small hopes. My doctor asked Dr. Warner if he thought it would be long before he would be at rest, who said his pulse was still strong. He said, 'It is a hard thing to die!" Mrs. Brannan came to spend the day with us, one of the Methodist society, and Mr. McNab, whom my doctor desired to pray with him, which he did. All this day he said little, but still continued in inward prayer, as was visible by the motions of his hands and eyes; he had many agonizing struggles, and often exclaimed, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' 'Blessed Jesus, come and receive me to thyself--come--come--blessed Jesus, come!' Once, after a long struggle, he exclaimed, 'Release me, O release me, and let me fly to the bosom of my Father!' All this time I never parted from his bedside but a few minutes to give my soul a freer vent at the throne of grace. I never prayed for life, but that he might be washed, sanctified, and have all God's salvation completed in his soul, and be received into the arms of his mercy. I also had been, and still was, very importunate that God would give me some token, some assurance that he would save his soul, and give him an abundant entrance into the kingdom of his glory; and, by all that I had heard, seen, and felt, I was now satisfied that the most merciful God had sealed his pardon for Jesus' sake; and I found myself ready, dearly as I loved him, to resign him into the hands of divine mercy; but still I breathed after some further manifestation.