son's Sermons, which had been kindly sent to him. He permitted me
frequently to pray with him, as a friend and minister; and when I used
the confessional in the communion service of our church, and some of the
verses of the fifty-first psalm, he appeared to unite devoutly in those
acts of penitence, and afterwards added, "I thank you heartily."

With emphasis did I hear him utter the memorable words, "I know that my
Redeemer liveth, &c." and on my reminding him that Job exclaimed also,
"Behold I am vile," he assented to the excellence of that language of
repentance and humility. Indeed, I well remember his heartily agreeing
with me in an observation I made some months before, "That a progress in
religion was to be discerned by a progressive knowledge of our own
misery and sinfulness." The last words almost I heard fall from him,
contained a sentiment I should wish, living and dying, to be my own--"
Christ, have mercy upon me! O my Saviour, look down upon me, forsake me
not."

Of his habits during the latter part of his life, Mrs. Opie, who has
the art of conferring an interest on whatever she relates, has given
this very pleasing account, in a letter addressed to the Editor of his
Memoirs. "In consequence of a previous correspondence with Mr. Hayley,
the result of his flattering mention of me in the twelfth edition of the
"Triumphs of Temper," I went to his house on a visit, in the year 1814.
Nothing could exceed the regularity and temperance of Mr. Hayley's
habits. We did not breakfast till a little before eight, out of
compliment to me I believe; but, as he always rose at six,[2] he
breakfasted at half-past seven when he was alone; and as soon as he
returned from his usual walk in the garden; you remember how rapidly he
walked, spite of his lameness, bearing on his stick on one side, and his
umbrella on the other.[3] During breakfast, at which he drank cocoa
only, he always read; and while I was with him, he read aloud to me. We
then adjourned to his sitting room, the upper library, and he read to
me, or I to him, till coffee was served in the dining room, which was, I
think, at eleven o'clock. That repast over, we walked in the garden, and
then returned to our books; or I sang to him till it was time for us to
dress for dinner--with him a very temperate meal. He drank water only at
dinner, and took coffee instead of wine after it. The coffee was served
up with cream and fruit in the upper library.

"After dinner I