AS Citizen and Philanthropist 51 



and complete as Franklin's. He has at last reached 

 his eighty-fourth year, and the case of that huge spirit 

 is growing old and racked by torturing pain. Yet in 

 the midst of all, but a few months before his death, he 

 placed the supreme crown and effulgent glory on a 

 career of philanthropy by writing an appeal to Congress 

 for the abolition of slavery, that " atrocious debasement," 

 so he termed it, " of human nature." In thus pleading 

 for the very least of his brethren, he laid his just hands 

 on the golden key that opes the palace of eternity, and 

 gained a mansion on the starry threshold of Jove's court. 

 Bear with me one minute longer while I recall to 

 your memory the conclusions of two letters. I care 

 not how well-known to you they may be. They should 

 be rehearsed until they are as familiar in our mouths 

 as household words. The first is addressed to Wash- 

 ington and was written from Franklin's dying bed: " For 

 my own personal ease," Franklin writes, " I should have 

 died two years ago; but, though these years have been 

 spent in excruciating pain, I am pleased that I have 

 lived them, since they have brought me to see our pres- 

 ent situation. I am now finishing my eighty-fourth year, 

 and probably with it my career in this life; but in 

 whatever state of existence I am placed hereafter, if I 

 retain any memory of what has passed here, I shall with 

 it retain the esteem, respect, and affection, with which 



