She had her reward—she lived long enough to see the object of her affectionate solicitude restored to health, the powers of mind and body returning in full force, and was then herself prostrated by an illness before which her constitution gave way. She died peacefully and happily, in the faith and hope of the Gospel, just as a new year was opening with all its promise on others. A blow so sudden and unexpected, was bewildering; the companion of years was gone, the bereaved one was alone, and in new scenes. His efforts at cheerfulness in the society of casual acquaintance, compared with the mastery feeling would gain over him, when he entered into the home society of nearer friends, attested the severity of this new trial. But happily for the mourner, he could recur to the calm and peace of those last moments, they seemed to be to him, the most precious of earthly recollections.
He once more turned to his pen, and sought a healthy solace for his lonely hours in mental occupation, first obtaining leave of his physician, who assured him that the wish to write, intimated he might do so with safety. During the ensuing summer and autumn he gave what leisure the imperative claims of "the cure," permitted, to literary occupation of various kinds. But still home was not the same, there was a kind of dislocation in the social life (if the expression may be allowed) he could not write as he was wont to do. He persevered, and as months rolled on regained his usual facility of composition. A tale of considerable length, founded on the characteristics of modern life, occupied him during the winter. Though lacking the romance of the olden time, it was not deficient in stirring incident and spirited dialogue. It appeared in "Hogg's Weekly Instructor," from May to August 1850.
The following lines, composed after he had recommenced writing, are among the few which, bearing a date, allow of insertion in the right place. They are now garnered among life's precious things, having been addressed to a family group of whom the writer of this sketch was one:
"Ye came across my path
In life's dark lonely way,
A gleam upon its dreary track,
A bright but transient ray;
Or like some vivid meteor-light,
Which dazzling, leaves a deeper night!
"Or like an evening gleam
Athwart some stormy sky,
On rocks, woods, waves the radiance breaks
In glory and in joy.
Ere all is wrapt in doubt and gloom,
And darkness falls o'er daylight's tomb.
"Like memories of the past,
When life's young morn was bright;
And all the glowing future, one
Wide atmosphere of light.
Ere gathering clouds the skies o'erspread
And early hope's brief sunshine fled.
"'Twere better ne'er to taste
Of pleasure's thrilling draught,
Than the parch'd, fever'd, thirsty lip
To leave ere it be quaff'd!
'Twere better launch on Lethe's stream,
Than bliss to feel a bygone dream.
"To meet,—and meet no more!
One look and then to sever;
To feel 'tis but a parting glance
And then 'Farewell' for ever!
As from bright tints deep shades we borrow,
Joys past but deepen present sorrow.
"All earthly joy must fade,
All earthly bliss decay,
Life but the sunshine and the shower
Of some brief "April day:"
Till death like night's grim shadow steals,
And all the unknown at once reveals!
"And earthly idols, all
Must perish if too dear;
We ne'er should seek enduring bliss
Could we but find it here.
Our dearest, tenderest ties must break,
Hopes wither oft, and friends forsake.