t, but have as constantly been broken off
from it. Indolence is my prevailing sin, and to that are now added a
number of avocations which I never thought of; I have also so continual
a fear that I may at last fall some way or other so as to dishonour the
Gospel that I have often desired that my name may be buried in
oblivion; and indeed I have reason for those fears, for I am so prone
to sin that I wonder every night that I have been preserved from foul
crimes through the day, and when I escape a temptation I esteem it to
be a miracle of grace which has preserved me. I never was so fully
persuaded as I am now that no habit of religion is a security from
falling into the foulest crimes, and I need the immediate help of God
every moment. The sense of my continual danger has, I confess, operated
strongly upon me to induce me to desire that no publication of a
religious nature should be published as mine whilst I am alive.
Another reason is my sense of incapacity to do justice to any subject,
or even to write good sense. I have, it is true, been obliged to
publish several things, and I can say that nothing but necessity could
have induced me to do it. They are, however, only grammatical works,
and certainly the very last things which I should have written if I
could have chosen for myself."

On 15th June 1833 the old man was still able to rejoice with others. He
addressed to his son Jonathan the only brief letter which the present
writer possesses from his pen, in a hand as clear as that of a quarter
of a century before:--

"MY DEAR JONATHAN--I congratulate you upon the good news you have
received. But am sorry Lucy continues so ill. I am too weak to write
more than to say your mother is as well as the weather will permit us
to expect. I could scarcely have been worse to live than I have been
the last fortnight.--Your affectionate father, W. CAREY."

The hot season had then reached its worst.

His last letters were brief messages of love and hope to his two
sisters in England. On 27th July 1833 he wrote to them:--

"About a week ago so great a change took place in me that I concluded
it was the immediate stroke of death, and all my children were informed
of it and have been here to see me. I have since that revived in an
almost miraculous manner, or I could not have written this. But I
cannot expect it to continue. The will of the Lord be done. Adieu,
till I meet you in a better world.--Your affectionate br