The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, by Henry Fielding

 “MY WORTHY FRIEND,—I informed you in my last that I was forbidden
  the use of the waters, as they were found by experience rather to
  increase than lessen the symptoms of my distemper. I must now
  acquaint you with a piece of news, which, I believe, will afflict my
  friends more than it hath afflicted me. Dr Harrington and Dr
  Brewster have informed me that there is no hopes of my recovery.

  “I have somewhere read, that the great use of philosophy is to learn
  to die. I will not therefore so far disgrace mine as to shew any
  surprize at receiving a lesson which I must be thought to have so
  long studied. Yet, to say the truth, one page of the Gospel teaches
  this lesson better than all the volumes of antient or modern
  philosophers. The assurance it gives us of another life is a much
  stronger support to a good mind than all the consolations that are
  drawn from the necessity of nature, the emptiness or satiety of our
  enjoyments here, or any other topic of those declamations which are
  sometimes capable of arming our minds with a stubborn patience in
  bearing the thoughts of death, but never of raising them to a real
  contempt of it, and much less of making us think it is a real good.
  I would not here be understood to throw the horrid censure of
  atheism, or even the absolute denial of immortality, on all who are
  called philosophers. Many of that sect, as well antient as modern,
  have, from the light of reason, discovered some hopes of a future
  state; but in reality, that light was so faint and glimmering, and
  the hopes were so incertain and precarious, that it may be justly
  doubted on which side their belief turned. Plato himself concludes
  his Phaedon with declaring that his best arguments amount only to
  raise a probability; and Cicero himself seems rather to profess an
  inclination to believe, than any actual belief in the doctrines of
  immortality. As to myself, to be very sincere with you, I never was
  much in earnest in this faith till I was in earnest a Christian.

  “You will perhaps wonder at the latter expression; but I assure you
  it hath not been till very lately that I could, with truth, call
  myself so. The pride of philosophy had intoxicated my reason, and
  the sublimest of all wisdom appeared to me, as it did to the Greeks
  of old, to be foolishness. God hath, however, been so gracious to
  shew me my error in time, and to bring me into the way of truth,
  before I sunk into utter darkness forever.

  “I find myself beginning to grow weak, I shall therefore hasten to
  the main purpose of this letter.

  “When I reflect on the actions of my past life, I know of nothing
  which sits heavier upon my conscience than the injustice I have been
  guilty of to that poor wretch your adopted son. I have, indeed, not
  only connived at the villany of others, but been myself active in
  injustice towards him. Believe me, my dear friend, when I tell you,
  on the word of a dying man, he hath been basely injured. As to the
  principal fact, upon the misrepresentation of which you discarded
  him, I solemnly assure you he is innocent. When you lay upon your
  supposed deathbed, he was the only person in the house who testified
  any real concern; and what happened afterwards arose from the
  wildness of his joy on your recovery; and, I am sorry to say it,
  from the baseness of another person (but it is my desire to justify
  the innocent, and to accuse none). Believe me, my friend, this young
  man hath the noblest generosity of heart, the most perfect capacity
  for friendship, the highest integrity, and indeed every virtue which
  can ennoble a man. He hath some faults, but among them is not to be
  numbered the least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On the
  contrary, I am satisfied, when you dismissed him from your house,
  his heart bled for you more than for himself.

  “Worldly motives were the wicked and base reasons of my concealing
  this from you so long; to reveal it now I can have no inducement but
  the desire of serving the cause of truth, of doing right to the
  innocent, and of making all the amends in my power for a past
  offence. I hope this declaration, therefore, will have the effect
  desired, and will restore this deserving young man to your favour;
  the hearing of which, while I am yet alive, will afford the utmost
  consolation to,

                  Sir,
                     Your most obliged,
                          obedient humble servant,
                                  THOMAS SQUARE.” 

The reader will, after this, scarce wonder at the revolution so visibly appearing in Mr Allworthy, notwithstanding he received from Thwackum, by the same post, another letter of a very different kind, which we shall here add, as it may possibly be the last time we shall have occasion to mention the name of that gentleman.

 “SIR,

  “I am not at all surprized at hearing from your worthy nephew a
  fresh instance of the villany of Mr Square the atheist's young
  pupil. I shall not wonder at any murders he may commit; and I
  heartily pray that your own blood may not seal up his final
  commitment to the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

  “Though you cannot want sufficient calls to repentance for the many
  unwarrantable weaknesses exemplified in your behaviour to this
  wretch, so much to the prejudice of your own lawful family, and of
  your character; I say, though these may sufficiently be supposed to
  prick and goad your conscience at this season, I should yet be
  wanting to my duty, if I spared to give you some admonition in order
  to bring you to a due sense of your errors. I therefore pray you
  seriously to consider the judgment which is likely to overtake this
  wicked villain; and let it serve at least as a warning to you, that
  you may not for the future despise the advice of one who is so
  indefatigable in his prayers for your welfare.

  “Had not my hand been withheld from due correction, I had scourged
  much of this diabolical spirit out of a boy, of whom from his
  infancy I discovered the devil had taken such entire possession. But
  reflections of this kind now come too late.

  “I am sorry you have given away the living of Westerton so hastily.
  I should have applied on that occasion earlier, had I thought you
  would not have acquainted me previous to the disposition.——Your
  objection to pluralities is being righteous over-much. If there were
  any crime in the practice, so many godly men would not agree to it.
  If the vicar of Aldergrove should die (as we hear he is in a
  declining way), I hope you will think of me, since I am certain you
  must be convinced of my most sincere attachment to your highest
  welfare—a welfare to which all worldly considerations are as
  trifling as the small tithes mentioned in Scripture are, when
  compared to the weighty matters of the law.

           I am, sir,
                Your faithful humble servant,
                                ROGER THWACKUM.” 

This was the first time Thwackum ever wrote in this authoritative stile to Allworthy, and of this he had afterwards sufficient reason to repent, as in the case of those who mistake the highest degree of goodness for the lowest degree of weakness. Allworthy had indeed never liked this man. He knew him to be proud and ill-natured; he also knew that his divinity itself was tinctured with his temper, and such as in many respects he himself did by no means approve; but he was at the same time an excellent scholar, and most indefatigable in teaching the two lads. Add to this, the strict severity of his life and manners, an unimpeached honesty, and a most devout attachment to religion. So that, upon the whole, though Allworthy did not esteem nor love the man, yet he could never bring himself to part with a tutor to the boys, who was, both by learning and industry, extremely well qualified for his office; and he hoped, that as they were bred up in his own house, and under his own eye, he should be able to correct whatever was wrong in Thwackum's instructions.