[Mr Main in continuation].
May 16, Three o’clock in the Morning.
Mr Arnold had been delirious the greatest part of yesterday; but about six o’clock in the evening, having come a little to his senses, he was conscious that he was going fast, and desired that prayers might be read by him. His lady sent for the minister of the parish, but he was gone to London: the gentleman whom he had left to do his duty, was taken ill the night before, and was not able to leave his bed. He sent the messager that went for him, to another clergyman, who lived about four miles farther off, to request he would attend in his stead; but he was engaged on the same duty in his own parish, and could not come, he said, till next morning. The servant had wasted above two hours on this errand; it was nine o’clock when he returned. Mr Arnold during this interval had had several ramblings; but was now again a little composed, though apparently worse. I whispered the apothecary, who just then came in, that he could not live ’till morning. Mrs Arnold observed me, and begged to know what I said. I told her tenderly, that I feared Mr Atkins (that was the clergyman’s name) would arrive too late, if he deferred his visit ’till next day.
She made me no answer, but seemed to study a little; then went composedly to Mr Arnold’s bed-side. My dear, said she, Mr Downs is unluckily from home; his assistant is sick in bed; and we cannot tonight get any other clergyman to visit you: but as you are desirous of offering up your prayers to Almighty God, I hope it will not be improper if I read the service for the sick by you. He stretched out his hand towards her, and said, in a faint, yet eager voice, Do, do, my good angel! Tears stood in the lady’s eyes as she turned from him; but she quickly wiped them off, and requested of me and the apothecary to join with her in the solemn office she was going to perform, which she said, though she was sensible it was an irregular act, yet she hoped, from the necessity of the case, would be accepted in the sight of God.
She ordered my sister to fetch her a prayer-book; and then kneeled down at Mr Arnold’s bed-side.
Surely nothing ever appeared so graceful; her fine hands and her fine eyes lifted up to heaven, while the book lay open before her on a little table. Such a reverential, such an ardent, yet such a mournful supplication in those fine eyes! She looked like something more than human! After having in this posture offered up a short petition in silence, she began the service.
Never did I see true devotion before; the fervor of her looks, and the tone of her voice was such, you would have thought she beheld her Creator with her bodily eyes. For my part, I looked on her with such reverence, that she appeared to me like an angel, interceding for us poor mortal sinners.
She went through the office with admirable strength of mind (omitting the exhortation) ’till she came to that part of the prayer, which says, ‘yet for as much as in all appearance the time of his dissolution draweth nigh, &c’. Here her voice faultered, and she stopped; but soon recovered herself, and proceeded with an unbroken tone to the end. Every one present wept but herself. She thanked us for our kindness in staying, and begged we would continue by poor Mr Arnold, while there was the least possibility of administering any relief to him.
I told her I would most willingly obey her commands, and sit up all the night with him, though it was not in human power to give him any assistance.
She repeated her thanks, and then sitting down by the bed-side, remained composed and silent.