How vividly comes up before the eye of Memory, the forms of the aged
members of the family; for there were an uncle and two aunts of my
father who were never married, that took him at the early age of two
years, educated him and gave him the homestead for his patrimony; and
at the time of my birth the snow of many winters rested upon their
heads, and the infirmities of age were upon them.
It was their delight to watch our childish sports, listen to our
innocent prattle, and strive to direct our young footsteps in the
paths of virtue. They have passed away like the shadows of a passing
cloud. Almost my first recollections of death are associated with that
of the aged man. He had been sick about four days when we were called
to stand by his bedside and witness his departure. He smiled upon the
dear little brother, mother held in her arms, shook him by the hand,
gave us all a parting glance; the film of death then gathered upon his
eyes, a convulsive shudder ran over his frame, and a deathly paleness
rested upon his countenance, filling our young hearts with wonder and
dismay. As we felt the marble coldness of his stiffened limbs, and saw
him borne away to the silent grave, we learned the first lesson from
the pale messenger, and felt the awful void that his presence creates
in the family circle, and which we have since been called so often to
experience. He died in the very room where we first opened our eyes
upon the light.
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