“For it will be the same with thee, who art called our Universal Mother,[82] when I am gone.  I have loved thee; and in my days both of happiness and sorrow I have peopled your solitudes with wild fancies of my own creation.  The woods, and lakes, and mountains which I have loved, have for me a thousand associations; and thou, oh, Sun! hast smiled upon, and borne your part in many imaginations that sprung to life in my soul alone, and which will die with me.  Your solitudes, sweet land, your trees and waters will still exist, moved by your winds, or still beneath the eye of noon, though[83] [w]hat I have felt about ye, and all my dreams which have often strangely deformed thee, will die with me.  You will exist to reflect other images in other minds, and ever will remain the same, although your reflected semblance vary in a thousand ways, changeable as the hearts of those who view thee.  One of these fragile mirrors, that ever doted on thine image, is about to be broken, crumbled to dust.  But everteeming Nature will create another and another, and thou wilt loose nought by my destruction.[84]

“Thou wilt ever be the same.  Recieve then the grateful farewell of a fleeting shadow who is about to disappear, who joyfully leaves thee, yet with a last look of affectionate thankfulness.  Farewell!  Sky, and fields and woods; the lovely flowers that grow on thee; thy mountains & thy rivers; to the balmy air and the strong wind of the north, to all, a last farewell.  I shall shed no more tears for my task is almost fulfilled, and I am about to be rewarded for long and most burthensome suffering.  Bless thy child even even [sic] in death, as I bless thee; and let me sleep at peace in my quiet grave.”

I feel death to be near at hand and I am calm.  I no longer despair, but look on all around me with placid affection.  I find it sweet to watch the progressive decay of my strength, and to repeat to myself, another day and yet another, but again I shall not see the red leaves of autumn; before that time I shall be with my father.  I am glad Woodville is not with me for perhaps he would grieve, and I desire to see smiles alone during the last scene of my life; when I last wrote to him I told him of my ill health but not of its mortal tendency, lest he should conceive it to be his duty to come to me for I fear lest the tears of friendship should destroy the blessed calm of my mind.  I take pleasure in arranging all the little details which will occur when I shall no longer be.  In truth I am in love with death; no maiden ever took more pleasure in the contemplation of her bridal attire than I in fancying my limbs already enwrapt in their shroud:  is it not my marriage dress?  Alone it will unite me to my father when in an eternal mental union we shall never part.