The Pedler of Dust Sticks

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

During this period, when he was able to bear the fatigue, his daughter drove him in a gig round the neighboring country; and she told me that such was his interest in the laborers, that he would never pass one without stopping, and asking him questions about his mode of working, &c. He could not speak English; but she was the interpreter.

At last he insisted upon his daughter's returning to her family. There was something so solemn, so repressed, in his manner, when he took leave of her, that she was afterwards convinced that he knew he should never see her again; but he said not a word of the kind.

His health grew worse; his strength failed daily; and he determined to return to Germany, so as to die in his native land. He wrote to his daughter, to ask her, as a proof of her love for him, not to come to say farewell. She was ill at the time, and submitted with a sad and aching heart.

She had seen her dear, excellent father for the last time. He lived to arrive in Hamburg. His workmen, when they heard of his arrival, went to the vessel, and bore him in their arms to his country house, where he died eight days afterwards.

He showed his strong and deep love of nature in these his last hours; for when he was so weak as to be apparently unconscious of the presence of those he loved, he begged to be carried into his garden, that he might hear the birds sing, and look upon his flowers once more.

When he knew he was breathing his last, he said to his children who were standing around his bed, "Be useful, and love one another."

His death was considered a public calamity in Hamburg. His workmen felt that they had lost their benefactor and brother. His children knew that life could never give them another such friend.

His body was placed in the great hall, in his country house, and surrounded by orange trees in full bloom. Flowers he loved to the very last; and flowers shed their perfume over the mortal garment of his great and beautiful soul. One after another, his workmen and his other friends came and looked at his sweet and noble countenance, and took a last farewell.

In Germany, when a distinguished man dies, he is carried to the grave on an elevated hearse decorated with black feathers and all the trappings of woe; but Henry's workmen insisted upon carrying their benefactor and friend to his last home in their arms. Their sorrowing hearts were the truest mourning, the only pomp and circumstance worthy of the occasion; and their streaming eyes were the modest and unobtrusive, but most deeply affecting, pageant of that day. All the inhabitants followed him, with mourning in their hearts. Remembering Henry's love for flowers, his fellow-citizens made arches of flowers in three places for his mortal remains to pass under, as the most appropriate testimonial of their love. The public officers all followed him to the grave, and the military paid him appropriate honors. Three different addresses were delivered over his body by distinguished speakers, and then hundreds and hundreds of voices joined in singing a hymn to his praise written by a friend.

Henry made such an arrangement of his business, and left such directions about it, as to make sure that his workmen should, if they wished it, have employment in his factory for ten years to come. He divided his property equally amongst his children, and bequeathed to them all his charities, which were not few, saying that he knew that his children would do as he had done, and that these duties would be sacred with them.