There lay the young woman, pale and feeble, with death stamped upon her countenance, surrounded by the sons and daughters of Africa, some of whom had been separated from every earthly tie, and the most of whose persons had been torn and gashed by the negro-whip.

Some were upon their knees at the bedside, others standing around, and all weeping.
Death is a leveler; and neither age, sex, wealth, nor condition, can avert when he is permitted to strike.

The most beautiful flowers must soon fade and droop and die.

So, also, with man; his days are as uncertain as the passing breeze.

This hour he glows in the blush of health and vigor, but the next, he may be counted with the number no more known on earth.