He was a physician, and had the
reputation of being a skilful practitioner. He had resided in the same
village with Annie some two or three years, and being of congenial
dispositions, and thrown much into each others' society, a strong
attachment had sprung up between them, which was sanctioned by the
friends of both parties.
But brilliant intellect, beauty of person, sweetness of disposition,
goodness of heart, nor love of friends could save her from death's
relentless dart. In her case, the words of the poet Wordsworth were
verrified,
"The good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket."
Ere nineteen summers had passed over her head, consumption had
fastened upon her vitals. At first the symptoms were so slight that
her friends felt little alarm, but soon the hollow cough, which sounds
so much like a funeral knell, the unnatural brilliancy of the eye, the
hectic glow upon the cheek, and the short, labored breathing, told but
too plainly that death was not to be cheated of his prey. It has been
said that death loves a shining mark, and it is true that he often
passes by the loathsome form, shriveled by age, and want, and
lingering disease, to feast upon the sparkling eye, the ruby lips, and
glowing cheek of youth and beauty.
Annie soon became fully sensible that she was not long for this world,
but was perfectly calm and resigned. She possessed that hope that
alone can sustain the soul in sickness and suffering, when we feel
that our hold upon earth is each day growing weaker, and eternity,
vast, boundless, with all its untried scenes, with all its deep
mysteries, and overwhelming interests, lies stretched out before us,
when the soul feels that it must soon be called upon to enter upon
those untried scenes, and to fathom the deep mysteries of that endless
existence, and that it must go alone and unattended into the presence
of its Maker, there to render up its account.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274