The apparent improvement in the health of Carlton was of short continuance. Once only was he able to walk to the grave-yard, and rest upon the turf which was now green upon the grave of Eliza.
“Tell my father,” said he, one day to the physician, who had not expressed his opinion upon the case, “that I shall not recover.”
“Have you no desire to live?” said the pastor, who was present.
“I think I can say with her, ‘Thy will be done.’ I see that life is altogether a different thing from what I supposed. If it were God’s will that I should continue here, I could perform as an hireling my day. But he excuses me, and I am content; though I have to regret that I have been of no benefit to my fellow men.”
His departure was much more sudden than was expected. On going to his chamber in the morning, his friends found that his spirit had fled. Her New Testament was between his hands, which were clasped upon his bosom. Apparently he had passed away as gently as did the former owner of that precious volume.
The autumn leaves were falling as the procession wound its way to the church-yard, and laid him to rest by the side of the grass-grown grave made just twelve months before.
EARTH-LIFE.
———
BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.