Great man! the nations gazed and wondered much, And praised and many called his evil good. Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness; And kings to do him honor took delight: Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame, Beyond desire, beyond ambition, full; He died!--he died of what? of wretchedness! Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump Of fame; drank early, deeply drank, drank draughts That millions might have quenched, then died Of thirst, because there was no more to drink. His goddess, nature, woo'd, embrac'd, enjoy'd; Fell from his arms abhorred!
"Well, my dear Miss Willoughby, how is your mother this morning," said a venerable looking clergyman as he pressed the hand of a fair young girl, apparently, not more than eighteen. Her face was pale with watching, and her eyes were red with weeping, and though she seemed in deep distress, there was a subdued and resigned manner about her, as she replied:
"Not any better, sir, I fear; she has had a very bad night, her cough has been so very troublesome." Saying this, she opened a door which led to an inner apartment, into which Mr. Montgomery entered, and approached the bed, followed by the afflicted daughter, who now tried to assume a composure of manner, very foreign to her feelings, as faintly smiling, she exclaimed, "Here, dear mamma, is our kind friend again." The poor sufferer looked anxiously at him. Her attenuated frame and sharpened features told the sad tale, that consumption had done its work, and the hand of death was upon her.
"Well, my dear madam," said the good pastor, "I will not ask if you are better; I will only hope the same spirit of resignation to the Divine Will fills your mind as when I left you, yesterday. Remember in _whom_ you trust, and for _whom_. There are never-failing promises recorded there," pointing to a Bible that lay on the bed, "and thrice happy are they who can rely on them in affliction's hour. I have read them to you, and your own eye, you tell me, has often rested on them; you have only, therefore, to 'commit your way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass.'"
"Oh, yes," replied the suffering woman, in a feeble tone, "I know it all; I know He is able and willing to take care of my hapless children. I _can_ and _do_ trust them to Him; feeling sure He will more than supply the place of the only parent left them; but, oh, my dear sir, convinced, as I am, of all this, it is, nevertheless, hard to leave them; may He forgive my weakness; but human nature is such, that--" here she paused from exhaustion.