Who does his best
And leaves the rest,
Then—do not worry.
A Scene at Old Hickory’s Death-bed
Mrs. Wilcox was present at General Jackson’s death, one bright and beautiful Sabbath morning in the June of 1845, and she described it as a scene never to be forgotten. He bade them all adieu in the tenderest terms, and enjoined them, old and young, white and black, to meet him in heaven. All were in tears, and when he had breathed his last the outburst of grief was irrepressible. The congregation at the little Presbyterian Church on the plantation, which the general had built to gratify his deceased wife, the morning service over, came flocking to the mansion as his eyes were closing, and added their bewailment to the general sorrow.
Shortly after this mournful event Mrs. Wilcox encountered an old servant in the kitchen, who was sobbing as though her heart would break. “Ole missus is gone,” she brokenly said to the child, “and now ole massa’s gone; dey’s all gone, and dey was our best frens. An ole massa, not satisfied teachin’ us how to live, has now teached us how to die!”
The poor, unlettered creature did not know that she was paraphrasing one of the most beautiful passages in Tickell’s elegy upon the “Death of Addison”:
“He taught us how to live, and (oh, too high
The price for knowledge!) taught us how to die.”