erished
no more famous memory than the friendship of Jonathan Wild. He had known
the Great Man at his zenith; he had wrestled with him in the hour of
discomfiture; he had preached for his benefit that famous sermon on the
text: 'Hide Thy Face from my sins, and blot out all my Iniquities'; he
had witnessed the hero's awful progress from Newgate to Tyburn; he had
seen him shiver at the nubbing-cheat; he had composed for him a last
dying speech, which did not shame the king of thief-takers, and whose
sale brought a comfortable profit to the widow. Jonathan, on his side,
had shown the Ordinary not a little condescension. It had been his whim,
on the eve of his marriage, to present Mr. Pureney with a pair of white
gloves, which were treasured as a priceless relic for many a year. And
when he paid his last, forced visit to Newgate, he gave the Chaplain,
for a pledge of his esteem, that famous silver staff, which he carried,
as a badge of authority from the Government, the better to keep the
people in awe, and favour the enterprises of his rogues.

Only one cloud shadowed this old and equal friendship. Jonathan had
entertained the Ordinary with discourse so familiar, they had cracked so
many a bottle together, that when the irrevocable sentence was passed,
when he who had never shown mercy, expected none, the Great Man found
the exhortations of the illiterate Chaplain insufficient for his high
purpose. 'As soon as I came into the condemned Hole,' thus he wrote, 'I
began to think of making a preparation for my soul; and the better to
bring my stubborn heart to repentance, I desired the advice of a man of
learning, a man of sound judgment in divinity, and therefore application
being made to the Reverend Mr. Nicholson, he very Christian-like gave
me his assistance.' Alas! Poor Pureney! He lacked subtlety, and he was
instantly baffled, when the Great Man bade him expound the text: 'Cursed
is every one that hangeth on a tree.' The shiftiest excuse would have
brought solace to a breaking heart and conviction to a casuist
brain. Yet for once the Ordinary was at a loss, and Wild, finding him
insufficient for his purpose, turned a deaf ear to his ministrations.
Thus he was rudely awakened from the dream of many sleepless nights. His
large heart almost broke at the neglect.

But if his more private counsels were scorned, he still had the joy
of delivering a masterpiece from the pulpit, of using 'all the means
imaginable to make Wild th