Then the old statesman said:
“Excuse me, doctor, for a few minutes,” and drawing over his eyes a silken cap which he usually wore, and still holding the vial in his hand, he prayed in clear words a simple, childlike prayer for his family, for his country, and for his own soul, then in the presence of death. Afterward, in perfect calmness, he swallowed the medicine.
Meanwhile Doctor Cobell, who greatly loved him, went out upon the lawn, and in his grief threw himself down upon the earth under one of the trees, and wept bitterly. Soon, when he had sufficiently mastered himself, the doctor returned to his patient, whom he found calmly watching the congealing of the blood under his finger-nails, and speaking words of love and peace to his family, who were weeping round his chair.
Among other things, he told them that he was thankful for that goodness of God which, having blest him through all his life, was then permitting him to die without any pain. Finally fixing his eyes with much tenderness upon his dear friend, Doctor Cobell, with whom he had formerly held many arguments respecting the Christian religion, he asked the doctor to observe how great a reality and benefit that religion was to a man about to die.
And after Patrick Henry had spoken these few words in praise of something which, having never failed him in his life before, did not then fail him in his very last need of it, he continued to breathe very softly for some moments, after which they who were looking upon him saw that his life had departed.—The Youth’s Companion.
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DEATH, THE RING OF
The whole world hates death. In Madrid, the Spanish capital, in one of its beautiful parks, stands a statue of its patron saint, about whose neck hangs a rare and valuable ring set with pearls and diamonds. It is never stolen, for nobody wants it. The reason is that a tragic story hangs about it. Every one who ever wore it died—Mercedes, Queen Christina, Infanta del Pillar, and others. It is known as “The Ring of Death.” (Text.)
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DEATH, UNTIMELY