thou conqueror of conquerors, and thou king of kings.  But yesterday I saw a smiling infant in its fond mother’s arms; a thousand dimpling smiles played around its beautiful features, and its eyes beamed with brilliancy; thou didst approach, and lay thy icy hand upon its fluttering pulses, and all was still.  The parted lips had closed with the passing smile yet upon them, the eye had ceased to roll, that little form was cold and motionless as the clods of the valley, life had ebbed away, the mysterious link that bound the soul to the body was broken; the spirit had departed; many witnessed the expiring struggle, but none saw the spirit as it took its flight from its clay tenement; yet it had gone with thee over yon dark stream.

Again I entered the chamber where a father lay, upon whom a numerous family were dependant.  Thou wast there; thy icy breath was upon him; thy agonizing throes were depicted on his pallid countenance; his expansive chest heaved laboriously; his shortening breath came up convulsively, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets.  He had been called suddenly—­unexpectedly to meet thee.  A tearful wife and children gathered around the bed, formed an interesting group, and strove in vain to allay the agony of the husband and father.  But a sterner blow, and that wife was a widow, those children fatherless.  Thou hadst taken that father to “that undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler e’er returns.”  That weeping wife and those children “were cast abandoned on the world’s wide stage, doomed in scanty poverty to roam.”  But still I followed thee, thou fell destroyer of the human race, determined to portray thy doings.

A gentle mother next received thy visitation, falling a prey to thy relentless hand.  Five darling children shared her maternal love, as day by day she ministered to their necessities.  The rose had long since faded from her cheek; an unwonted lustre lit up her eye, and her step became more and more feeble, ’till thou didst summon her away, leaving a void in the hearts of those children that can never be filled.  Sad, sickening was the sight as I followed in thy train, and saw father, mother, sister, brother, and all the endearing relations of life, fall before thy sway.  But thou art coeval with the race; there lives not a man who will not bow before thy sceptre; all must drink from thy cup.  The crowned monarch and the beggar sleep side by side, and their mingled dust is the sport of the winds of the heavens.  Then may we

    “So live, that when our summons comes to join
  The innumerable caravan, that moves
  To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
  His chambers in the silent halls of death,
  We go not like the quarry slave at night,
  Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed
  By an unfaltering trust, approach our graves
  Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
  About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.”