A hunter's lifk. 543 



Ber back-bone a little above the hips, and made a complete 

 cripple of her. 



She survived the accident three years, during which time 

 she enjoyed not one day of good health. In the early part 

 of her sickness slie would not let even myself know her 

 true situation, nor until her case became hopeless, and she 

 was confined to her bed ; when my hopes of happiness be- 

 came more and more gloomy. 



Such was her disposition, that she could not remaii 

 Idle, but would sit propped up in her bed, and sew and 

 knit until her weakness overcame her, and she was forced 

 to continue in a lying posture all the time. 



If ever there was a true penitent, Mary surely was one. 

 After a long-continued illness, she became every day 

 weaker, until the twenty-ninth day of January, 1839, when 

 she breathed her last. 



Oh ! heavens, what a stroke I The dearest friend of 

 my bosom, the earliest love of my boyhood, the kind and 

 affectionate mother of eleven of my children, taken from 

 us for ever ! All that I could say then, and even now, is, 

 "Father, thy will be done." Now let her soul rest in 

 peace. 



The following verses have been composed to her me- 

 mory : 



I've beard that first and early love 



Outlives all after dreams ; 

 But memory of my first great grief 

 To me more lasting seems. 



How oft my mind recalls the day 



When to my peaceful home 

 Death came, a dread, unwelcome guest, 



And beckoned to the tomb 1 



He left his seal upon ner face ; 



I shuddered at the sight ; 

 And shudder still, to think upon 



The anguish of that night. 



