instances were extremely rare in which any took advantage of it. Formerly, they were very indifferent to the debts which they had contracted; but afterward they considered it a sacred duty and used every effort to discharge them. They showed a strong disposition to assume the habits and manners of civilized life, giving up the precarious resource of hunting to secure a living from the soil; and throwing off the rough and disorderly bearing of the Indian, they became peaceable, gentle, and humane as cultivated men.

The land at Crossweeksung was not so favorable to a permanent residence as some other parts of the tract belonging to the Indians. Considering it of great importance that they should have the means of living among themselves, so as not to be exposed to the temptation of trading with white men, he proposed to them to remove to a place called Cranberry, at the distance of fifteen miles. They complied without hesitation, and early in the spring of 1746, proceeded to the spot and broke up the ground for the labors of the year. He could not be constantly with them for want of a shelter; he therefore remained in a little hut which he had built at Crossweeksung; but visited them often and superintended their operations. When he came among them, the sound of the conch-shell called them from their labor, they joyfully assembled round him, and the ancient forest echoed with their morning and evening hymn.

He was now in much doubt as to what it was his duty to do. He seems to have understood the peculiar restlessness, which made a part of his nature. He had apprehended, he says, that it was the design of Providence that he should settle with the society which he had gathered, and enjoy the blessing of repose, which his health so much required; but he was never "quite pleased with the thought of being settled and confined to one place." At times, the prospect of having leisure for study and meditation, of a fixed abode, and of the attachments which a wanderer cannot easily form, presented itself to his mind with irresistible attraction; but, when he thought of gaining souls among the heathen, and extending the borders of the Saviour's kingdom, this prospect diminished in brightness "like stars before the rising sun." On the whole it seemed to him, that God had fitted him for a life of solitude and hardship, and that, never having enjoyed for any length of time the comforts of house and home, he was better able than others to renounce them. He therefore made up his mind, that this was the service to which he was called, and that he would be a hermit and pilgrim in the wilderness, to his dying hour.

It is easy to trace in his Diary a presentiment that the hour was not distant; he gives the texts from which he preached, and, though he says nothing concerning it, they seem chosen because so much in harmony with the state of his feelings. They were such as this; "Who appeared in glory, and spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem; " and this; "Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no more." But, feeble as he was, he felt it to be his duty to make one more attempt to do something for the Susquehanna Indians; accordingly, he set out in the month of September, a time too near the autumn for such exposure as his journey required. He went, and made the most earnest efforts to persuade them to receive Christianity. At one time, he seemed to have hopes of success; but these were soon darkened, and he was constrained to acknowledge, that the time to reach their hearts was not yet come. Meantime his health was fearfully endangered; sometimes he slept in cabins, where the smoke affected his lungs in such a manner, that he was obliged to go out into the air; sometimes he slept abroad, with neither fire nor shelter, protected only by some branches which he had broken from the pines; he was repeatedly drenched with thunderstorms and chilled with the damps of night. Every night he was tormented with profuse cold sweats, and by day he was perpetually discharging blood from his lungs. It was evident enough, that the weary frame was worn out and must soon be in the dust. But in all his sufferings, he breathes not a single prayer that his days might be lengthened, nor even that he might be spared from his visitations of pain. When he returned to his own people, he found them at that moment engaged in prayer. He went in among them, and poured forth his offering of praise. "Oh that my soul were truly thankful for these renewed instances of mercy. Many hardships and distresses I endured in this journey; but the Lord supported me under them all."

CHAPTER V.

His increasing Weakness. - Quotation from Mr. Shepard. - His persevering Labor.-His Removal to Cranberry. - Communion Service. His Sickness at Elizabethtown. - His Farewell to the Indians. His Journey to Northampton. - President Edwards' Account of Him. - Miss Edwards. His Visit at Boston. Attentions paid Him. - His Return to Northampton. - Circumstances of his Death. His Example.

THE last journey to the Susquehanna seemed to put the finishing blow to the constitution of Brainerd. From that time, he was compelled to change his habits of life, not to prolong it, which now appeared hopeless, but to smooth his passage to the grave. Even his Diary, which he had formerly written under all circumstances, at home and abroad, in the cabins of Indians or by the light of the pine torch under the open sky, was now comparatively neglected; though he still took advantage of his short intervals of strength, to supply its deficiencies, and above all, to write down the history of his own heart.

But this was a dangerous indulgence, and a