The Last Days. 427 



of heaven," his own description of the closing hours 

 of a just man's life, written thirty-six years before, 

 was singularly applicable. 



1838. The Lake of Constance. The sun is just 

 setting, and the very heavens seem to be in unison 

 with the scene. The clouds, on a blue ground, have 

 a rich and ruddy hue, and the outer edges are 

 wreathed with silver. The Lake is an almost un* 

 broken mirror. Behind me how different the scene 

 dark and murky clouds are hanging over the 

 snow-clad Alps. 



Now we are entering the little harbor of Con* 

 stance the boat is moving slowly ; the sun seems 

 to be setting almost behind the waters, rising and 

 sinking at the moment of his departure, leaving a 

 golden stream on the edges of the neighboring 

 clouds, reminding me of the last hours of a just 

 man's life calmly, as the setting sun, his day closes, 

 and the bright light of his example is left to edify 

 and gladden the world. 



John Ha&keWs Journal. 



Friday evening. Dr. Rude has arrived. Aunt 

 Julia B. crossed the room just now. Grandfather 

 asked, "Who is it?" On being told, he said/'/ 

 love her I love you all" (Those were his last words.) 



Monday evening. He has slept through to-day, 

 scarcely breathing. 



Tuesday. In the early morning, Aunts Jane and 

 C. sent me to get a little rest. During the night, 

 grandfather would, apparently, cease to breathe 

 these cessations lasted for about thirty seconds. At 

 9.20 A. M., Aunt C. awoke me. saying that one of the 



