University of Virginia Library

Mr. Ramsay died last evening, between ten and eleven,
with little pain, and in the full possession of his faculties.
His daughter is seriously indisposed; but she has
the best medical attention in the country; and her deportment
toward her father, during his short illness, has made
her many friends. Be assured, madam, that she shall want
for nothing. She wrote a note yesterday morning, and
gave it to me, with your address, requesting me, if the
event should be as we anticipated, to enclose it to you.
She took to her bed, immediately; or rather, we carried
her, by force, from the presence of her father, who commanded
it; and she is now delirious. Mr. Ramsay received
every attention and kindness, that he could have
received at home. A catholick clergyman, from Boston,
one of the most amiable and benevolent of men, was with
him all the time, during the last two days; and no human
being ever manifested more resignation, after he was
told that death was inevitable. At first, he was a good
deal agitated; yet, he told me, not an hour afterward,
that he knew he should die in my house, the first night
that he slept here. I laughed at the notion then, but it
was verified. He did die, in the very room, in the very
bed, and at the very hour which he had foretold. I have
had some experience in these things; and am willing to
attribute much to the imagination; but, when I see a sober,
sensible man, like him, yielding up to a belief that he
has seen a spirit---pardon me, madam, I am little inclined
to provoke a smile at such a moment; but, Mr. Ramsay,
not an hour before his death, told me, that his wife had
appeared to him, and summoned him. Was there any
thing remarkable in her death? I ask the question, from
some mysterious observations that I heard escape him,
in conversation with his daughter, respecting the matter,
when he was first taken ill. He told his physicians and
me, that nothing could save him; but, desired us not to

inform her. We tried all that we could, to divert his mind
from meditating on the subject. But all in vain. Even
medicine had no effect upon him. Can the mind counteract
such things?—neutralize our poisons—dilute and
dissipate the most corrosive, and fiery applications?—
Is that sympathy so vital, that the blood cannot be chilled,
where the mind is preternaturally heated? It was,
in his case. Blisters were applied. They came off, as
they went on. His skin had lost its sensibility. Purges
and emeticks were given. No effect was produced.
The stomach and bowels were impenetrable. Laudanum
followed; but, the only result was, a more mortal coldness
in the extremities; no sluggishness, no torpor;—
the blood, therefore, was beyond our dominion. It is
considered here, the most extraordinary case, within our
experience; but we are told that such things may be, in
the books; and our limited observation would seem to
confirm the position. Sudden fright, I have known to
produce death—and to restore drunken men. And the
sea-sickness, always ceases, when the danger of shipwreck
is imminent.