322 LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF THE \j-79^ 



But these domestic events were not always events of joy. Dark 

 clouds follow bright sunshine. On the 19th of December in this 

 same year Dr. Smith was called on to mourn the loss of his eldest 

 and much loved daughter Williamina, wife of Charles Goldsbor- 

 ough, Esq. The following inscription — upon a handsomely carved 

 tombstone in the church-yard at Cambridge, Md. — is no doubt from 

 the pen of Dr. Smith himself: 



In Memory of 



Mrs. Williamina Goldsborough, 



Wife of Charles Goldsborough, Esq., 



Of Dorset County, Maryland, 



Daughter of Dr. William Smith of 



Philadelphia, and Rebecca, his wife. ■ 



. She died December 19th, 1790, 



Aged 28 years. 



Call'd from this mortal scene in bloom of life, 

 Here lies a much lov'd daughter, mother, wife, 

 To whom each grace and excellence were given, 

 A saint on earth, an angel now in heaven. 

 Bereaved parents come to speak their woe ; 

 To grave it deep on monumental stone, 

 And with a husband's sorrows mix their own — 

 But ah ! no further trace this tablet bears, 

 Line after line is blotted with their tears. 



Her mournful parents inscribe this tablet. 



The poet Pope has given us many poetical epitaphs, some of 

 which have been long admired of scholars. I recall none more 

 graceful and pathetic than this which an aged father puts upon his 

 daughter's tomb. The two letters which follow are in proper 

 sequence to the sad events which we have been commemorating : 



Dr. Smith fo Charles Goldsborough. 



Philadelphia, January 17, 1791. 



My Dear Distressed Sir : How shall I take my pen in hand to write 

 to you? For many days past, although urged by every tie of affection, 

 and solicited by your mother at every interval of her deep affliction to 

 write to you, yet I attempted it in vain. Inconsolable myself, un- 

 manned, and I fear almost unchristianed, with the mother, sister and 

 brothers of the angel we have lost, all in the like condition around me, 

 what consolation could I impart to you? Yet still there is consolation, 



