make everything easy, and that he should be welcome upon his own
terms, to stay with her as long as he pleased.
This affair being so happily settled to his full satisfaction, he
returns to Padstow to fetch the things he had left behind him, and
the next day came back to St. Helen’s, where, according to his own
proposal, he continued to the day of his death, which happened upon
the 29th of May, 1718, about the same hour in which he was born.
Having thus given a short detail of the several periods of his
life, extracted chiefly from the papers which he left behind him, I
come in the next place to make a few observations how he managed
himself and spent his time toward the latter part of it.
His constant practice, both winter and summer, was to rise and set
with the sun; and if the weather would permit, he never failed to
walk in some unfrequented place, for three hours, both morning and
evening, and there it is supposed he composed the following
meditations. The chief part of his sustenance was milk, with a
little bread boiled in it, of which in the morning, after his walk,
he would eat the quantity of a pint, and sometimes more. Dinners
he never eat any; and at night he would only have a pretty large
piece of bread, and drink a draught of good spring water; and after
this method he lived during the whole time he was at St. Helen’s.
It is observed of him that he never slept out of a bed, nor never
lay awake in one; which I take to be an argument, not only of a
strong and healthful constitution, but of a mind composed and calm,
and entirely free from the ordinary disturbances of human life. He
never gave the least signs of complaint or dissatisfaction at
anything, unless it was when he heard the tinners swear, or saw
them drunk; and then, too, he would get out of the way as soon as
he had let them see, by some significant signs, how scandalous and
ridiculous they made themselves; and against the next time he met
them, would be sure to have a paper ready written, wherein he would
represent the folly of drunkenness, and the dangerous consequences
that generally attended it.
Idleness was his utter aversion, and if at any time he had finished
the business of the day, and was grown weary of reading and
writing, in which he daily spent six hours at least, he would
certainly find something either within doors or without, to employ
himself.
Much might be said both with regard to the wise and regular
management, and the prudent methods he took to spend his time well
towards the declension of his life; but, as his history may perhaps
be shortly published at large by a better hand, I shall only
observe in the general, that he was a person of great wisdom and
sagacity. He understood nature beyond the ordinary capacity, and,
if he had had a competency of learning suitable to his genius,
neither this nor the former ages would have produced a better
philosopher or a greater man.
I come next to speak of the manner of his death and the
consequences thereof, which are, indeed, very surprising, and,
perhaps, not altogether unworthy a general observation. I shall
relate them as briefly as I can, and leave every one to believe or
disbelieve as he thinks proper.
Upon the 26th of May, 1718, according to his usual method, about
four in the afternoon, he went out to take his evening walk; but
before he could reach the place he intended, he was siezed with an
apoplectic fit, which only gave him liberty to sit down under a
tree, where, in an instant, he was deprived of all manner of sense
and motion, and so he continued, as appears by his own confession
afterwards, for more than fourteen hours.
His sister, who knew how exact he was in all his methods, finding
him stay a considerable time beyond the usual hour, concludes that
some misfortune must needs have happened to him, or he would