His situation now became more sequestered than ever; he roamed in solitude, or pleased himself in ranging through silent glens in loneliness. His thoughts were absorbed in the gloomy experience of the misery of a painful separation from a dear and beloved object; he wept for her whose mild and winning graces had power to soften and illuminate the darkest shades of life, or alleviate the distressful scenes of adversity.
His mind was wholly absorbed in those gloomy reflections that scarcely admitted a ray of consolation, when the weekly newspaper arrived from the neighbouring village; he took it up, hoping to find something to amuse his thoughts; he opened it to read the news of the day; he ran his eye hastily over it, and was about to lay it aside, “when the death list arrested his attention by a display of broad black lines,” and he, who had not yet become reconciled to his present misfortune, was now about to experience another equally severe.
What could equal his bitterness, his surprise and grief, when he read the disastrous news that his youngest son (who had lately gone on a foreign expedition) had died of a fever in a distant land a few weeks previous!
The paper fell from his palsied hand,—a sudden faintness came over him,—he fell back almost senseless in his chair,—exhausted by excess of grief, he remained a long time in a stupifying anguish.
The tidings were so unlooked-for of the premature death of his unfortunate son, who about this time was expected to arrive in New-York. For him an only brother was inconsolable; and Alida, who had long been accustomed to his kindness and caresses, was overcome with a dejection that time alone could alleviate.
Her father observed her affliction in commisseration with his own,—he was dejected and lonely, and the world appeared like a wilderness; nothing could lessen his present evil, or soothe his afflicted mind.
The former peaceful serenity of his life was materially clouded; and in his turn calamitous wo had overtaken him—the inalienable portion of humanity,—and the varied and shifting scenery in the great drama of time had brought with it disaster. His spirit was sunk in despondency, and his sensations became utterly absorbed in melancholy; and all the pious and philosophical reflections that he exerted himself to bring to his remembrance, could scarcely afford even a transitory consolation in this afflicting dispensation.
From foreign lands the tidings borne,
With pain to wake a parent’s anguish,
O, brother dear, beloved of all,