We were sad to-day. One said, “King is
dead.” “Yes,” answered the other,
and we were silent. Memory was busy. We
could not talk. In his office, where yet he wears
the harness of the law, surrounded by musty, well-thumbed
books, and piles of papers with hard judicial faces,
we sat and mused. Perhaps we thought of the past,
when those to whom eternity is a reality were with
us and joyous. At such times the mind turns quickly
back to youth’s joys, nor lingers along the
vista of intervening time. All of that day will
revive, but these memories sadden the heart, and we
are fain to think, but not to talk. Perhaps we
wondered what were the realizations of the dead.
What are they? Who knows, except the dead?
Do the dead know? Unprofitable thought!
Faith and hope only buoy the heart, and time brings
the end. Well, time has whitened our heads, but
not indurated our hearts, and time is now as busy
as when in the joyousness of youth we heeded not his
flight, and to-morrow may bring us to the grave.
Ah! then we shall know the secret, and we will keep
it, as all who have gone before. Oh, what a blessed
hope is that which promises that we shall, forgetful
of the cares and sorrows of time, meet those whom
death has refined, and be happy as they in eternity!
But the doubt, and then the fear! But why the
fear? We come into time without our knowledge
or consent, fulfil a destiny, and without our knowledge
or consent die out of time. This is the economy
of man’s life, and was given him by his Creator.
Then why should he fear? If it is wise for him
to be born, to live, it is surely wise that he should
die, since that is equally a part of his economy.
Then why fear? Reason is satisfied, but instinct
fears.
Yelverton P. King never removed from the county of
his birth, nor abandoned his profession, remaining
upon the soil of his nativity and among those with
whom he had been reared, maintaining through life the
character of an upright man. Many memories are
connected with his name. When we were young at
the Bar, there were as our associates very many who
attained eminence as lawyers, and fame as politicians;
but these distinctions are not connected with the
endearing attributes which make them so cherished
in memory—the incidents of social intercourse,
the favors, the kindnesses of good neighborhood, the
sympathies of young life, the unity of sentiment, the
sameness of hopes, little regarded at the moment;
but oh! how they were rooting in the heart, to bear,
away in the coming time, these fruits of memory, in
which is the most of happiness when age whitens the
head, and the heart is mellowed with the sorrows of
time.
Though all were affectionate and social in their intercourse
with each other, yet each had his favorites, because
of greater congeniality in nature, more intense sympathies,
and more continual intercourse. Little incidents
were of frequent occurrence which drew these continually
closer, until friendships ripened into confidences—some
more special favorites of some, and some more general
favorites of all. This latter was Y.P. King;
and yet this favoritism was never very demonstrative,
but perhaps the stronger and more permanent for this.
Such, too, was Nesbitt; the older members of the profession
loved him, and those of his own age were unenvious
and esteemed him.