MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
369 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WATER PLANTS. 
BY ELIZABETH 5. EAMES. 
The wilding buds, and cultur’d (lowers 
Are beautiful to view— 
Aud the blossoms born in Tropic bowers 
Are rare and rear’d by few! 
The forest trees in foliage green 
The Mountain Mosses gray, 
The lulled grass in dew-pearl’d sheen, 
Oh 1 beautiful are they 1 
But lovelier than buds and (lowers. 
And tropic blossoms rare— 
Those children of the waves and (lowers 
The Water Flowrets are I 
By babbling-brook, and singing stream, 
By forest, fount and pool— 
By rivulet and mountain rill— 
And well-spring deep and cool— 
Upon the lovely lakelets side, 
Along the river shore, 
They lift their heads in graceful pride 
Or bow the waters o’er. 
So where that stately river queen 
The Lily lifteth up 
(Array’d in snowiest velvet sheen,) 
Its alabaster cup: 
The purple Cumfrcy dips its leaves 
In the clear brook below, 
And the Callha with the Crowfoot weaves 
Its blossoms white as show. 
The azure-tinted Ma.Hoxcf.-bud 
Stands on the river-brink 
And, dipping neath the crystal flood, 
The Flag-Flower stoops to drink; 
The water white Ranunculus 
Are rang’d around the pool, 
With the tender leav’d young IValcr Cress- 
Ami flowering grasses cool 1 
The frail and fairy Harebell rings 
Her silvery pealing chime, 
And the stream-loving Cowslip sings. 
In soft accordant rhyme. 
The slender little meadow rill 
Is drest in Foam-like Flowers, 
Over the turf-edged valley kill 
The Orchis falls in showers : 
For miles along the wood streams side 
Bends Lady Fern and Brake, 
And the blue Geranium tar aud wide 
Is scatter’d o’er the Lake I 
The rose-hued Lychnis blooms around 
The fountain’s mossy brim, 
And tile dew-wet verdurous bank is crown’d 
With Violets sweet and dim. 
About the lonely forest pond 
Doth droop the Adders Tongue, 
And the Money IVort is heavily 
Upon its borders hung. 
Over the tiny runnels edge 
The Fox- Glove nods her head, 
The wild Fink and the wreathy Hedge, 
Their leaflets o’er it shed 1 
Arising from the swelling sod 
Around the clear cool spring, 
The Alder green, aud Golden Rod, 
Their freshest tribute bring 
And filling ’tween the shore and land 
Its own peculiar place, 
The yellow flowering Mustard stands, 
In blithe aud pliant grace: 
Yes I beautiful are Water Flowers— 
Around their color’d stems 
Are flung in silvery-gleaming showers 
A thousand sunny gems : 
In sparkles of the diamond dew— 
In foam-pearls glist’ning white, 
In trembling wreaths of fairy spray, 
Fill’d with a rainbow light, 
While jewel’d with a thousand rings 
Their leafy fingers shine. 
And prism-hued beads on golden strings. 
Round twigs and branches twine. 
Yeal wilding buds, and and cultur’d flowers 
Are beautiful to view— 
Aud the blossoms born in tropic bowers 
Are rare, and rear’d by few; 
But lovelier than all flowers and buds 
Or leaves aud mosses rare, 
These children on the waves and floods 
These Water Flowiots are! 
to the tale of blighted hopes and crushed affec¬ 
tions, with a sigh.—yet dreamed not that they 
would e'er be ours; we ever reveled in the sun¬ 
light of happiness. O! bright, budding hopes, 
ye yet linger around us—casting a halo of 
heavenly light, but we fear the gathering storm, 
we fear the approaching darkness which may 
obscure your radiance. 0! fairest (lowers of 
earthly bliss, ye yet bloom along our pathway, 
shedding the rich perfume of love aud joy up¬ 
on our hearts, but we fear the chilling breath 
of sorrow, which may ere long cast a wither¬ 
ing blight upon your beauty. 
We love to listen to memory’s glad strains 
—and now they tell us of the time when the 
heart first felt the power of youthful love.— 
Soft and sweet thy music now. 0, wondrous 
Harp! we would linger on those blissful strains, 
for O, how sweet their lightest cadence. — 
How sweet to recall the time when the young 
heart yielded at the sacred shrine, Love’s 
purest offering. We would fain dwell forever 
on those blissful memories; forever live in the 
light of that happy dream. 
But a strain of mournful melody steals from 
memory’s Harp. Alas! that a cloud should eer 
obscure that radiant dream. Oh! why should 
that brightest beam of earthly light go down 
at last in darkness? But still a voice of hope 
breathes from the Past, aud the music is an 
echo of a strain sung in the Better Land. 
Wyoming Co., N. Y. D. T. 
CONDUCTED 
ODE ON THE GREEK SLAVE. 
BY AUGUSTIN DUGANNE. 
“A WELL ORDERED HOME.” 
These words are a “home thrust” to many 
in practical lessons of wisdom. The relations 
of husband and wife, parents and children, and 
brothers and sisters, are all embraced w’ithin 
their meaning. To the husband, love, kind¬ 
ness, honesty, sincerity and forbearance towards 
the chosen partner of his lite, are essential.— 
To the wife, a loving heart, a cheerful home; 
“bright fires instead of black stoves, smiles of 
welcome, devotion and obedience, mutual for¬ 
bearance, mutual interests, a cultivation of 
mutual tastes, pursuits and studies, a love of 
the beautiful aud true. To parents, fixed rules 
of government for children, founded on jus¬ 
tice and mercy, whose fruit is love, recognizing 
and strictly observing the rights of the child, 
as scrupulously as they demand obedience; to 
cultivate order and system in all things, and a 
taste for the useful and beautiful, instead of 
follies and frivolities—all these are equally es¬ 
sential. 
Provide amusements for children, it you 
would keep them from seeking it away from 
home. 
Make the house cheerful and happy and de¬ 
sirable, if you would have it irresistible to the 
members of it. Discard the austerity and cold 
stiffness of formality, but observe all the true 
and genuine politeness of honesty, hearty hu¬ 
manity, which teaches us to “ do unto others, 
as we would that others should do unto us, ’ 
and “ love one another.” Such a home should 
every Christian family be. then the seeds ol 
pietv, honesty, uprightness, cheerfulness, and 
elevated happiness, sown and nurtured in the 
home would spring up and grow and multiply, 
as the different members of these families ra¬ 
diated to all points of the compass like a halo 
of glory, and “peace on earth, and good will 
to man” would be the glorious result. 
0 Greek ! by more than Moslem fetters thrall’d ! 
O marble prison of a radiant thought, 
Where life is half recall’d, 
And beauty dwells, created, not enwrought,— 
Why hauntest thou my dreams, enrobed in light, 
And atmosphered with purity, wherein 
Mine own soul is transfigured, and grows bright, 
As though an angel smiled away its sin. 
O chastity of Art! 
Behold! this maiden shape makes solitude 
Of all the busy mart; 
Beneath her soul’s immeasurable woe. 
All sensuous vision lies subdued, 
And from her %eiled eyes tlie flow 
Of tears, is inward turned upon her heart; 
While on the prisoning lip3 
Her eloquent spirit swoons,' 
Aud from ihe lustrous brows’ eclipse 
Falls patient glory, as from clouded moons! 
Severe in vestal grace, yet warm 
And flexile witli the delicate glow of youth, 
She stands, the sweet embodiment of truth; 
Her pure thoughts clustering around her form, 
Like seraph garments, whiter than the snows 
Which the wild sea upthrows. 
0 Genius! thou cans’t chain 
Not marble only, but the human soul, 
And melt the heart witli soft control, 
And wake such reverence in ihe brain, 
That man may be forgiven, 
If in the ancient days he dwelt 
Idolatrous with sculptured life, and knelt 
To Beauty more than Heaven ! 
Genius is worship I for its works adore 
The Infinite Source of all their glorious thought, 
So blessed Art, like Nature is o’erfraught 
With such a wondrous store 
Of hallowed influence, that we who gaze 
Aright on her creations, haply pray and praise 1 
Go, then, fair Slave ! and in thy fetters teach 
What Heaven inspired and Genius hath designed: 
Be thou Evangel of true Art, and preach 
The freedom of the Mind ! 
Crans-Jitlantic Cjjistles, 
TO COUSIN KATEY. 
Communicated thro’ Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EPISTLE FOURTEENTH. 
companions flitting to and fro, like shades upon 
the banks of the Styx, dark abysses yawning 
at your feet, from which the stifled moanings 
of the restless volcano faintly fall upon your 
ear, burning ashes beneath you, and sulphure¬ 
ous vapors filling the air to suffocation; all 
these aid in making up the picture. It is a 
strange, unearthly spot, one that makes an in- 
dellible impression upon the mind, and, once 
seen, can never be forgotten. 
Our guides hastened us away, for the day 
was fast waning, and the weather becoming 
threatening. The descent of the cone was as 
easy and expeditious as the ascent had been 
tedious and difficult. We took the path which 
lay throagh the loose sand and ashes, aud ran 
almost at full speed, though sinking at every 
step ankle-deep. The very sliding of this un¬ 
solid foundation was an effectual check upon 
the impetus acquired by our motion, and in 
this way we soon reached the place where our 
animals had been left, re-mounted them and 
commenced retracing our steps down the 
mountain side. Now we were at liberty to en¬ 
joy the beautiful view before us at leisure, and 
we feasted our eyes upon this unrivalled pano¬ 
rama until the darkening twilight hid it from 
our sight. The remainder of the ride passed 
in silence, except that one of the donkeys lifted 
up his voice at intervals, and gave utterance to 
such discordant sounds that the good Doctor, 
also an American, who was mounted upon 
him, almost leaped from his seat in affright, 
fancying he heard the roar of the awakening 
volcano, the prelude to a new aud terrible 
eruption. At Resina we gladly resumed our 
lage on the coast of the bay, and I mounted a 
donkey to make the ascent of the mountain as 
far as the cone. Another lady of the party 
selected a horse, but I sagely opined that the 
long-eared, animal would be the surer-footed 
of the two, and accordingly honored him with 
the preference. J ust fancy me, Katey, perch¬ 
ed on my donkey, with a dark-eyed, melancholy¬ 
looking Italian officiating as guide. His post 
was properly at my bridle, but he had an invin¬ 
cible propensity to fall behind,and, (shall Isay 
it?) attach himself to the caudal appendage 
of the poor donkey, who was thus compelled, 
besides carrying me, to drag him also up the 
mountain. This is a universal practice with 
the guides who attend animals on such excur¬ 
sions, and our cavalcade of ten or twelve in 
number, bestriding beasts of all sizes and qual¬ 
ities, and all, or nearly all, with such a footman 
at their heels, was a mirth-provoking sight.— 
We wound slowly up the mountain side, pass¬ 
ing first through rich vineyards and orchards) 
then through waste grounds, clad with a coarse 
and scanty vegetation, till finally this disap¬ 
peared and we entered upon the fields of lava, 
which stretched black and frowning before us 
to the summit of the crater, without a green 
leaf or living creature to soften their utter deso¬ 
lation. These lava fields differ in one respect 
from the picture which my imagination had al¬ 
ready formed of them. I supposed the streams 
of lava as they rolled slowly down the moun¬ 
tain side, and gradually cooled and hardened, 
would be characterized by a somewhat smooth) 
uniform surface. This is not the case, but the 
lava lies in large, irregular fragments, and the 
general appearance is quite similar to that of j sea t s in our comfortable carriages, and were 
[ For the Rural New-Yorker.] 
MUSIC FROM MEMORY’S HARP. 
Lightly touch those sacred strings; we 
would listen once more to their thrilling melo¬ 
dy. Breathe not of sadness, wondrous harp! 
“I DID AS THE REST DID.” 
This tame, yielding spirit—this doing “as 
the rest did”—has ruined thousands. 
A young man is invited by vicious compan¬ 
ions to visit the theatre, or the gambling room 
or other haunts of licentiousness. He becomes 
dissipated, spends his time, loses his credit, 
squanders his property, and at last sinxs into 
an untimely grave. What ruined him? Sim¬ 
ply “doing what the rest did.” 
A father has a family of sons. He is weal¬ 
thy. Other children in the same situation of 
life do so and so, are indulged in this thing and 
that. He indulges his own iu the same way. 
They grow up idlers, triffers and fops. The 
fatherwonders why his children do not succeed 
better. lie has spent so much money on their 
for now we would hear ot the bright aud sunny j e j U( ?^ t j on ], as given them great advantages; 
past—of the blissful dreams of joyous youth, but " a i as i’ they are only a source of vexation 
when Hope and Love were young,—start to 
the music of the Past; Lis not sad, not mourn¬ 
ful, but so full of blis3 that the eye uncon¬ 
sciously fills with tears. It recalls the time 
when we strayed through the forest, with 
hearts as free as the “ mountain bird which 
and trouble. Poor man, he is just paying the 
penalty of “doing as the rest did.” 
This poor mother strives hard to bring up 
her daughters genteelly. They learn what 
others do, to paint, to sing, to play, to dance, 
and several useful matters. In time they mar- 
rv t.hpir husbands are unable to support their 
warbling of the woodland songsters—we tho’t 
they had wandered from the bowers of Para¬ 
dise, to sing those heavenly strains on earth. 
In the murmur of the silver stream that glided 
o’er its pebbled way, in the rustling of every 
forest tree, there seemed to come a voice from 
the “Spirit land.” We were happy then; the 
Future full of promise—the Past a fairy dream. 
We knew not of the care and weariness of 
life; we knew not sin had cast its witheiing 
blight o’er all the beauteous things of earth. 
We would linger on those blissful memories— 
but now the strain recalls the time—when 
childhood was merged into budding youth.— 
The heart beat high with warm hopes of the 
Future, and we longed to go forth and take 
an active part in the ever-changing drama of 
life_we feared not the cold, rude blasts of 
earth, for we saw only the bright and sunny 
skies, aud heeded not t he few clouds that float¬ 
ed o'er them. We thought ’twas strange that 
life was called a weary, toilsome way, for to us 
it seemed all bright a*d joyous. We listened 
rest did; 
The sinner, following the example of others, 
puts off repentance, and neglects to prepare 
for death. He passes along through life, till, 
unawares, death strikes the fatal blov. 11c 
has no time left now to prepare. And he goes 
down to destruction, because he was so foolish 
as to “ do as the rest did. 
Look at home.— As a general rule it will be 
found that our greatest sources oI unhappiness 
are within ourselves, and it we tail to live har¬ 
moniously with others we shall act more wisely 
to set about correcting our own faults than to 
pick flaws in tiller characters. Make the foun¬ 
tain pure and the stream will flow clearly along, 
even though it must pass dark toiests, loncl) 
chasms, aud rough shores. 
Self Control.— To live happily with others 
we must first learn to live happily with our¬ 
selves. He who rules his own spirit well, can 
so adapt lumself to the shifting phases in the 
life of his friends as never to be drawn into 
harshness, never to do violence to the feelings 
or tastes of those who are bound to him by 
the sacred ties of friendship or love. 
Reflections in the Museo Borbonico —Similarity between 
antique and modern household implements—Ascent of 
Mt. Vesuvius — Guides — Fields of Cava — Hermitage — 
Lachrxjma Chrisle — Climbing the cone — Four men 
aud a boy to help— Appearance of the crater — Descent 
and return to Naples. 
Dear Katey: —My last letter was devoted 
to an account of the trials and vexations thro’ 
which we passed in reaching the fair city of 
Naples—you will be glad to learn that we 
were fully compensated by the pleasure which 
our stay here afforded us for all these desa. 
gremens. But do not be alarmed, Katey, lest 
I should bore you by any attempts at 
describing this famous city, or the curiosi¬ 
ties which it contains. I am not possessed of 
sufficient energy at this present writing to un¬ 
dertake so formidable a task, and besides con¬ 
sider it quite unnecessary, for if you should re¬ 
ally wish to post yourself up on these matters, 
I will lend you Murray, after our return, where 
you will find everything set forth and enlarged 
upon after the most approved style. En pas¬ 
sant, let me impart to you, however, some of 
my reflections iix the Mnseo Borbonico, one of 
the lions of Naples, while examining the col¬ 
lection of small objects in bronze, found mostly 
in Herculaneum and Pompeii. We talk of 
human progress, of the advancement of the 
age, particularly in mechanical inventions and 
improvements; and here in these rooms, one is 
surrounded by the household implements, the 
furniture and ornaments of a people who exist¬ 
ed nearly two thousand years ago — transport¬ 
ed, as it were, into the midst of the home-life 
of the ancients. One is almost startled by the 
absolute identity between the greater part of 
these objects and those in use at the present 
day. Cooking utensils, stoves, caldrons, lamps> 
lanterns, steelyards aud weights, locks and keys, 
surgical aud musical instruments, bells, pens, 
ink, needles, scissors, everything is here, and 
frequently the only difference between these 
antiques and their modern successors, consists 
iu the more graceful forms and artistic adorn¬ 
ment of the former. While passing through 
this collection I felt somewhat as in Rome, 
when gazing at the stupendous and yet sym¬ 
metrical structures which the old Romans 
reared. I was convinced that people had ex¬ 
isted, and quite comfortably and respectably 
too, before we boastful moderns, came upon 
the stage, and I was quite inclined to the opin¬ 
ion that these same old Romans, whom from 
my school days I had been accustomed to re¬ 
gard as a semi-barbarous nation of warriors, 
were, in many respects, the noblest race which 
this earth has ever produced. If all “ Young 
America” could be sent to school in Europea 
while, I fancy it would learn some usefal les¬ 
sons, and the conviction of its exceeding youth, 
which would grow upon it from day to day, 
might perhaps check the presumption for which 
it is at present unhappily famous. But enough 
of this moralizing, and, by way of variety, let 
me relate to you my adventures in ascending 
Vesuvius, which border, to say the least, on the 
comic. 
We left our carriages at Resina, a little vil- 
a field newly broken up by the plowshare.— 
We toiled slowly up the rugged path which 
conducts through these dismal solitudes, re¬ 
freshing ourselves with many a backward 
glance at the enchanted prospect spread out 
beneath us, aud at length reached the Hermit, 
age, a monastery inhabited by a few monks and 
situated on a little eminence about three-quar¬ 
ters of a mile from the foot of the cone. Here 
we were expected to dismount and take some 
refreshments, or at least taste the famous wine 
grown on the sides of Vesuvius, and called 
Lachn/mee Christi, an appellation which 
sounds strangely like profanation to a Puritan 
ear. My Italian attendant very significantly 
intimated that it was customary to furnish a 
bottle of wine to the guides on such occasions. 
After a few moments speut at the Hermitage 
we were once more “en route,” and soon found 
ourselves at the foot of the cone, where we 
dismounted and left our animals under the care 
of one of the guides. Here came the tug of 
The ascent of the cone is exceedingly 
soon whirled back to our hotel, where a good 
dinner and a smiling host awaited us. 
Affectionately yours, Minnie. 
A FAIRY TALE. 
difficult, the inclination being very steep, and 
the path lying either through loose ashes which 
slide back at every step, or over projecting 
masses of lava, which afford a surer foot-hold 
but are at the same time quite rough and un¬ 
pleasant to walk upon. A sort of chair is 
provided, in which those who choose this mode 
of conveyance may be carried to the top with¬ 
out any personal exertion. But no such in¬ 
glorious mode of mounting Vesuvius would 
serve my turn. With genuine Yankee spunk 
I was determined to go up myself, on foot. So 
forth I set, but it did not take long to cool 
the ardor of my zeal, and make me cast a wist¬ 
ful glance back at the easy conveyance which 
I had so indignantly spurned. It is the busi¬ 
ness of the guide who accompanies you from 
Resina to assist you in mounting the cone.— 
This he does by means of a leathern strap, one 
end of which he gives you, while he secures 
the other about his person, and, as he advan¬ 
ces, drags you up after him. A half-dozen or 
more Italians are always in waiting at the foot 
of the cone, ready to offer their services as 
bearers of those who wish to be carried, or as 
additional aids to those who go on foot. I 
started very courageously with my one guide, 
pulling me along by the leathern strap, but 
several of the supernumerary attendants fol¬ 
lowed in the rear, shrewdly suspecting their 
services would be called iuto requisition. As 
my pace slackened and I showed symptoms of 
weariness, one of them advanced to my side 
and took my arm to give me additional sup¬ 
port and assistance. Soon another installed 
himself upon the other side, and finally a third 
commenced pushing me from behind, a species 
of aid which I hail not the heart to decline, 
however incompatible with my dignity I might 
have deemed it under other circumstances.— 
To cap the climax, a boy took possession of 
the shawl which I carried with me as a pro. 
tection against the cool air after reaching the 
summit, and thus aided and escorted by four 
men and one boy, I succeeded, after frequent 
pauses for breath, in gaining the summit. 
Recollect, Katey, all this is in strict confi¬ 
dence, for when I get home, and speak of as¬ 
cending Vesuvius on foot, I shall be very care¬ 
ful not to say anything about the four men, or 
even the one boij. And now I suppose you 
are ready to ask what I saw on the top ot the 
mountain to repay me for all this toil. I cer¬ 
tainly obtained a more vivid idea of the infer¬ 
nal regions than I ever had before, or wish to 
have again. Clouds ot smoke and vapor, 
through which you dimly see the forms of j our 
Once upon a time, just before the monkey 
tribe gave up the nauseous custom of chewirg 
tobacco, there lived an old hag, who had con¬ 
ceived an inordinate desire to eat an elf; a cir¬ 
cumstance, by the way, which indubitably es¬ 
tablishes that elves were of masticable solidi¬ 
ty, and not, as some one has it, mere 
“ Shadowy dancers by the summer streams.” 
So the old lady went to the place where the 
fairies dwelt, at the hill-top. 
“ Pretty little Jip,” said she, “ come and see 
the sack of cherries I have brought thee, so 
large, so red, so sweet. ’ 
Fairies, be it known, are extremely fond of 
this fruit; and the elf rushed out in eager 
haste. 
“ Ha! hal” said One-Eye, as she pounced up¬ 
on him, and put him in “her bag, (witches al¬ 
ways carry bags,) “ take care the stones don’t 
stick in thy throttle, my little bird.” 
On the way home, she has to visit a place 
some distance from the road, and left Jip, 
meanwhile, in the charge of a man who was 
cutting faggots. No sooner was her back 
turned, than Jip begged the man to let him 
out; and they filled the bag with thorns. One- 
Eye called for her burden, and set off towards 
home, making sure she had her dinner safe on 
her back. 
“ Ay, ay! my lad,” said she, as she felt the 
pricking of the thorns; “ I’ll trounce thee, when 
1 get home, for stinging me with thy pins and 
needles. 
When she reached her house, she belabored 
the bag with a huge stick, till she thought she 
had broken every bone in the elfs body; and 
when she found that she had been wasting her 
strength upon a “kit” of thorns, her rage 
knew no bounds. Next day, she again got 
possesion of Jip in a similar manner, and this 
time left him in care of a man who was break¬ 
ing stones by the road-side. The elf makes 
his escape as before; and they fill the sack with 
stones. . 
“Thou little rogue!”said the witch, as she 
perspired under the burden, “I’ll soften thy 
bo»e3 nigh-hand.” 
Her appetite was only whetted, not blunted, 
by these repeated failures; and, despairing of 
again catching her prey in the same way as 
before, she assumed the shape of a pedlar, 
with a churn on his shoulder, aud contrived to 
meet Jip in a wood. 
“Ah! Master Redcap,” quoth she, “look 
alive, my little man, the fox is after thee. See; 
here he comes. Hie thee into my churn, and 
I will shelter thee. “Quick! quick’” In 
jumped the elf. “ Pretty bird!” chuckled the 
old crocodile, “dost thou scent the fox?” 
This time, she went straight home, and gave 
Jip to her daughter, with strict orders that she 
should cut off his noddle, and boil it.— 
When the time came for beginning the cook¬ 
ing, Miss One-Eve led her captive to the chop¬ 
ping-block, and bade him lay down his head. 
“How?” quoth Jip; “ I don’t know how.” 
“Like this, to be sure,” said she; and suiting 
the action t.o the word, she put her poll in the 
right position. 
"instantly, the fairy seizes the hatchet, and 
serves her in the manner she intended to serve 
him. Then, picking up a huge pebble, he 
climbs up the chimney to watch the progress 
of events. As he expected, the witch came 
to the fire to look after her delicacy; and no 
sooner does she lift up the lid of the pot, than 
“ plop” came down Jip’s pebble right into the 
centre of her remaining optic, the light of 
which is extinguished forever; or, according 
to some versions, killed her stone- dead. 
There is something true, fanciful and sweet 
in the following epigram on slumber, from the 
Italian: 
“ Sweet is slumber—it is life 
Without its sorrow, sin or sighing 
Death, without the fearful strife, 
The mortal agony of dying. 
