the compliments of form, the ladies withdrew, and left them to private
conversation; when Boerhaave took occasion to tell him what had been,
during his illness, the chief subject of his thoughts. He had never
doubted of the spiritual and immaterial nature of the soul; but
declared that he had lately had a kind of experimental certainty of
the distinction between corporeal and thinking substances, which mere
reason and philosophy cannot afford, and opportunities of
contemplating the wonderful and inexplicable union of soul and body,
which nothing but long sickness can give. This he illustrated by a
description of the effects which the infirmities of his body had upon
his faculties, which yet they did not so oppress or vanquish, but his
soul was always master of itself, and always resigned to the pleasure
of its maker.

He related, with great concern, that once his patience so far gave way
to extremity of pain, that, after having lain fifteen hours in
exquisite tortures, he prayed to God that he might be set free by
death.

Mr. Schultens, by way of consolation, answered, that he thought such
wishes, when forced by continued and excessive torments, unavoidable
in the present state of human nature; that the best men, even Job
himself, were not able to refrain from such starts of impatience. This
he did not deny; but said, "he that loves God, ought to think nothing
desirable, but what is most pleasing to the supreme goodness."

Such were his sentiments, and such his conduct, in this state of
weakness and pain: as death approached nearer, he was so far from
terrour or confusion, that he seemed even less sensible of pain, and
more cheerful under his torments, which continued till the 23rd day of
September, 1738, on which he died, between four and five in the
morning, in the 70th year of his age.

Thus died Boerhaave, a man formed by nature for great designs, and
guided by religion in the exertion of his abilities. He was of a
robust and athletick constitution of body, so hardened by early
severities, and wholesome fatigue, that he was insensible of any
sharpness of air, or inclemency of weather. He was tall, and
remarkable for extraordinary strength. There was, in his air and
motion, something rough and artless, but so majestick and great, at
the same time, that no man ever looked upon him without veneration,
and a kind of tacit submission to the superiority of his genius.

The vigour and activity of his mind sparkled vi