MEMOIR. Ivii 



Another had seen him upon the upper deck, probably 

 just after his wife lost sight of him, throwing chairs into 

 the river to serve as supports; nor is it too improbable 

 ' that the chairs upon which his wife floated to shore were 

 among those he had so thoughtfully provided. 



In the afternoon, they brought him home, and laid him 

 in his library. A terrific storm burst over the river and 

 crashed.among the hills, and the wild sympathy of nature 

 surrounded that blasted home. But its master lay serene 

 in the peace of the last prayer he uttered. Loving hands 

 had woven garlands of the fragrant blossoms of the Cape 

 jessamine, the sweet clematis, and the royal roses he^oved 

 so well. The next morning was calm and bright, and he 

 was laid in the graveyard, where his father and mother 

 lie. The quiet FishkUl mountains, that won the love of the 

 shy boy in the garden, now, watch the grave of the man, 

 who was buried, not yet thirty-seven years old, but, with 

 great duties done! in this world, and with firm faith in the 

 divine goodness. 



"'Unwatch'^, the garden tough shall sway,' 

 The tender blossom flutter down, 

 Unloved, that beech will gather brown, 

 This maple burn itself away ; ^ 



" Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair 

 Ray round with flame her disk of seed; 

 And many a rose-carnation feed 

 With summer spice the hamming air. 



" Unloved, by many a sandy bar 



The brook shall babble down the plain, . 

 At noon, or when the lesser wiin 

 Is twisting round the polar star ; 



" Uncared for, gird the windy grove. 



And flood the haunts of hern and crake'; 



