completely tend to brutalize the mind, to deaden every feeling of conscience, to leave the man long habituated to it “without hope,” and indeed “without God in the world?”  The nature of the crime for which Jolin was committed to prison, was such as to increase the general horror against him.  This was exhibited by the crowd, in the streets, on the occasion of his trial; so that his various crimes had made him an outcast from the pity and compassion of his fellow-creatures.  It is true, there were particular circumstances in his case, which, if generally known, would have lessened the public indignation, and which might have been a source of secret satisfaction to himself.  These were the exceeding badness of his education, the brutality of his father, the continual discord of his family, the state of intoxication in which he was when he unintentionally committed the crime; but these points, although once alluded to in his appeal to his judges, were scarcely mentioned by him in his private conversations, so completely was the conviction established in his mind, that he had fallen into sin by the wilfulness of his own heart, that he had destroyed himself; and that to a greater depth of transgression he could scarcely have reached.

After Jolin had been lodged in gaol, he was visited by a very respectable relative, Mr. Pinel, a member of the Methodist church.  He made this visit, as he himself testified, without the hope of any spiritual benefit.  He, however, desired to relieve his temporal necessities, and to afford him all the comfort in his power.  He found the poor culprit in a most pitiable state.  Overwhelmed and stunned by his situation, he was lying on a heap of straw, and appeared like one who had no hope to look to in this world, or the next.  Mr. Pinel said to him, “Young man, I think both your body and your soul are in great danger.”  Jolin did not answer, but sobbed excessively.  He then procured for him a bed, and some comfortable clothing, and put into his hands a French Testament.  Soon after, as there was at that time no chaplain regularly appointed to the gaol, Jolin was visited by the curate of the parish, M. Falle.  After some days, M. Falle’s great occupation in his ministry led him to transfer this important and interesting charge to the Rev. W. C. Hall, a young clergyman residing in the island, who took the more immediate care of him, watched over, instructed, and finally attended him through the dark valley of the shadow of death, till he reached, as I doubt not, the portal of the heavenly abode.  Meanwhile the Testament was not neglected by Jolin.  He read it nearly through; but, in the first instance, it would seem, without understanding the nature of the message which it was designed to convey.  His mind, however, was no doubt gradually preparing by the Holy Spirit to receive the instruction about to be more fully imparted.  On the 22d of September, about ten days before his execution, Jolin was visited by Mr. Hall and another clergyman.  He was then sitting in his bed, and looking as wretched as might be expected under the circumstances in which he was placed; as Mr. Pinel had stated, “without hope for this world, or the next.”  They immediately entered upon the object of their visit, and spoke to him of the nature of his offence; of the sin of murder, as condemned by the law of God, and aggravated in his case, because committed against a parent; of its sentence in the judgment of men, and its heinousness in the sight of God.  They pointed out to him, that, awful as is man’s sentence against this crime, little consideration was due to this in comparison with the condemnation which the law of God pronounced; and that this condemnation had passed upon him, and that the execution of its sentence of eternal death would be inflicted if he did not repent, and seek help and pardon through Jesus Christ.  All this was manifest, for it was written in the word of God, that murderers should have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone (Rev. xxi. 8;) that drunkards should not inherit the kingdom of God, (1 Cor. vi. 10:) and this condemnation, it was also pointed out, extended not only to these crimes, but to that of the general sin of the heart, and was the necessary consequence of its separation and alienation from God.  That this condemnation would come upon all sinners was evident, for it is written, “The wages of sin is death,” (Rom. vi. 23.)  One point appeared particularly to produce the deepest sensation of pain in this young man’s mind; this was the representation of the conduct of God towards him in reference to his father; that whilst that unhappy man had been cut off, and sent almost without warning, with all his sins upon him, before the Judge who will deal with every man according to his works, he, the murderer, had been spared, and brought into a prison, where he had opportunity given him to reflect upon his state, to seek for pardon, and where salvation was offered to him, if he would turn and seek it.  The cry of, “Oh my father, my poor father!” mingled with his sobs on that occasion.

Although Jolin’s crime was so palpable, and was confessed by him in the fullest, yet as it was committed unconsciously, and he had seen no traces of it, except in what others told him, the whole seemed like a dream; and the deed itself, with its appalling circumstances, were not likely to fasten themselves on his mind as if it had been premeditated, or as if he had been in full possession of his understanding, or as if he, which he himself wished, had seen his father’s murdered corpse.  However, this circumstance afterwards appeared to turn out to his advantage.  It prevented him from fixing his thoughts exclusively on a particular sin; and he was thus less hindered in discovering the sinfulness of his nature and of his general habits, and learning the lesson it is often so difficult to comprehend, that we are not less condemned by the law of God for our general alienation from him, than for any one or more scandalous offences which we may have committed.  Not that this state of mind in Jolin prevented him from coming to the deepest sense of his own particular offence; for as he learned more thoroughly to understand the nature of sin in general, his feeling for his peculiar crime more deeply penetrated his soul.  One other subject seemed to produce in him the same intense state of feeling which the mention of his father had done; this was the sin of intemperance, which had, as I have before remarked, been the immediate cause of his crime.  Mr. Hall, thinking that he might be suffering from the cold, confined as he was in a large stone-chamber, of which the window was usually open, guarded him against seeking a refuge from his sufferings from drinking.  At the mention of this, he went off again into expressions of horror at the supposed possibility of such an offence in his tremendous circumstances, and declared that nothing should again tempt him thus to transgress.  Yet, as Mr. Hall observes, were his resolutions expressed rather as if smarting under the penalty of his crime, than as if conscious of his own inability to keep the engagement which he was entering into.  He spoke as a man strong in his own strength, and as yet unacquainted with the perfect weakness of resolution not formed in dependence upon the power of God.

On the point of again falling into the sins of which he seemed to have repented, three distinct states were noticed in Jolin’s case before his execution.  At first, as at this visit, he was fully confident that, if he were once more to be set at liberty, he should never again become intoxicated.  Afterwards, when he came to discover the exceeding weakness of his nature, he even