The fears expressed were too soon and sadly realized; the powers of her constitution had been too severely taxed, nature gave way, and, four days afterwards, she ceased to live. Mr. Lawrence announced the death of this cherished and only daughter in the following letter:
"Boston, December 14, 1844.
"My dear Son: The joyous event I mentioned of S.'s twins has in it sad memorials of the uncertainty of all joys, excepting those arising from the happiness of friends whose journey is ended, and whose joys are commencing. Long life does not consist in many years, but in the use of the years allowed us; so that many a man who has seen his four-score has, for all the purposes of life, not lived at all. And, again, others, who have impressed distinct marks, and have been called away before twenty-eight years have passed over them, may have lived long lives, and have been objects of grateful interest to multitudes who hardly spoke to them while living. Such has been the case with our hearts' love and desire, Susan Mason. The giving birth to those two babes, either of whom would have been her pride and delight, was more than she could recruit from. The exhaustion and faintness at the time were great, but not alarming; and the joy of our hearts for a season seemed unmixed. After three days, the alarm for her safety had taken stronger hold of her other friends than of myself; and, at the time I wrote you last, I felt strong confidence in her recovery. On Sunday evening, at seven o'clock, a great change came over her, that precluded all hope, and she was told by C. how it was. She seemed prepared for it, was clear in her mind, and, with what little strength she had, sent messages of love. 'Give love to my father, and tell him I hope we shall meet in heaven,' was her graphic and characteristic message; and then she desired C. to lead and guide her thoughts in prayer, which he continued to do for as many as six times, until within the last half-hour of her life. At three o'clock on Monday morning, the 2d instant, her pure spirit passed out of its earthly tenement to its heavenly home, where our Father has called her to be secured from the trials and pains and exposures to which she was here liable. It is a merciful Father, who knows better than we do what is for our good. What is now mysterious will be made plain at the right time; for 'He doeth all things well.' Shall we, then, my dear children, doubt him in this? Surely not. S. was ripe for heaven, and, as a good scholar, has passed on in advance of her beloved ones; but beckons us on, to be reünited, and become joint heirs with her of those treasures provided for those who are found worthy. We are now to think of her as on the other side of Jordan, before the same altar that we worship at, without any of the alloy that mixes in ours; she praising, and we praying, and all hoping an interest in the Beloved that shall make all things seem less than nothing in comparison with this. We have had the sympathy of friends; and the circumstances have brought to light new friends, that make us feel our work here is not done. I feel called two ways at once: S. beckoning me to come up; the little ones appealing to the inmost recesses of my heart to stay, and lead them, with an old grandfather's fondest, strongest, tenderest emotions, as the embodiment of my child. Her remains are placed at the head of her mother's; and those two young mothers, thus placed, will speak to their kindred with an eloquence that words cannot. I try to say, in these renewed tokens of a Father's discipline, 'Thy will be done,' and to look more carefully after my tendency to have some idol growing upon me that is inconsistent with that first place he requires; and I further try to keep in mind, that, if I loved S. much, he loved her more, and has provided against the changes she was exposed to under the best care I could render. Let us praise God for her long life in a few years, and profit by the example she has left. The people of her own church are deeply afflicted, and not until her death were any of us aware of the strong hold she had upon them. Some touching incidents have occurred, which are a better monument to her memory than any marble that can be reared. * * * *
"This morning opens most splendidly, and beautifully illustrates, in the appearance of the sky, that glorious eternity so much cherished in the mind of the believer.
"With sincerest affection, your father,
A. L."
"Tremont-street, Tuesday morning.
"Dear Partners: The weather is such as to keep me housed to-day, and it is important to me to have something to think of beside myself. The sense of loss will press upon me more than I desire it, without the other side of the account. All is ordered in wisdom and in mercy; and we pay a poor tribute to our Father and best Friend in distrusting him. I do most sincerely hope that I may say, from the heart, 'Thy will be done.' Please send me a thousand dollars by G., in small bills, thus enabling me to fill up the time to some practical purpose. It is a painful thought to me that I shall see my beloved daughter no more on earth; but it is a happy one to think of joining her in heaven.
Yours, ever,
A. L.
"A. & A. Lawrence & Co."
On the last day of 1844, a date now to be remembered by his friends as that on which his own departure took place, eight years later, he writes to his children in France:
"This last day of the year seems to have in it such tokens and emblems as are calculated to comfort and encourage the youthful pilgrim, just in his vigor, not less than the old one, near the end of his journey; for the sun in the heavens, the hills in the west, and the ocean on the east, all speak, in tones not to be mistaken, 'Be of good courage,' 'Work while it is day,' and receive, without murmuring, the discipline a Father applies; for he knows what is best for his children. Whether he plants thorns in the path, or afflicts them in any way, he does all for their good. Thus, my dear children, are we to view the removal of our beloved S. This year had been one of unusual prosperity and enjoyment, from the first day to the present month; and all seemed so lovely here that there was danger of our feeling too much reliance on these temporals. The gem in the centre has been removed, to show us the tenure by which we held the others."
At the opening of the year 1845, Mr. Lawrence, after noting in his property-book the usual annual details, makes the following reflections:
"The business of the past year has been eminently successful, and the increased value of many of the investments large. In view of these trusts, how shall we appear when the Master calls? I would earnestly strive to keep constantly in mind the fact that he will call, and that speedily, upon each and all of us; and that, when he calls, the question will be, How have you used these? not How much have you hoarded?"
With the new year, he set himself at work with renewed zeal to carry into effect his good resolutions. One of the first results was a donation of ten thousand dollars to Williams College, which he enters upon his book with the following memorandum: