A low wail of inappeasable sorrow, an undertone of dirges, mingles with his gay melodies.

His immediate horizon is bright with sunshine; but beyond is a land of darkness, the light whereof is darkness.

It is walled about by the everlasting night.

The skeleton sits at his table; a shadow of the inevitable terror rests upon all his pleasant pictures.

He was without God in the world; he had no clear abiding hope of a life beyond that which was hastening to a close.