Ah! Jack, we are but miserable mortals after all! To be called away so suddenly and so young!" My ancestor had seen his seventy-fifth birthday; but unhappily he had not settled all his accounts with the world, although he had given the physician his last fee and sent the parson away with a donation to the poor of the parish that would make even a beggar merry for a whole life.
"Thou art come at last, Jack! Well, my loss will be thy gain, boy! Send the nurse from the room." I did as commanded, and we were left to ourselves.
"Take this key," handing me one from beneath his pillow, "and open the upper drawer of my secretary.

Bring me the packet which is addressed to thyself." I silently obeyed; when my ancestor, first gazing at it with a sadness that I cannot well describe--for it was neither worldly nor quite of an ethereal character, but a singular and fearful compound of both--put the papers into my hand, relinquishing his hold slowly and with reluctance.
"Thou wilt wait till I am out of thy sight, Jack ?" A tear burst from out its source and fell upon the emaciated hand of my father.

He looked at me wistfully, and I felt a slight pressure that denoted affection.
"It might have been better, Jack, had we known more of each other.

But Providence made me fatherless, and I have lived childless by my own folly.

Thy mother was a saint, I believe; but I fear I learned it too late.