"I hope, father, that you will yet recover, and live many years," replied his daughter. "I hope not," was his answer. When told to change his position in bed, that he might breathe more easily, he replied: "A dying man can do nothing easy." His sufferings were so great as to extort a groan from him at one time, whereupon he said: "I fear that I do not bear pain as I ought. It is designed, no doubt, to wean me from the world, in which I am no longer competent to act my part." To a clerical friend, who witnessed one of his paroxysms as he was about to retire, he said: "Oh, no; don't go away. These pains will soon be over. They are for my good; and, besides, what are the pains of a moment in comparison with the pleasures of eternity?" He had a picture of Christ on the cross placed so that he could look at it as he lay on his bed. "That is the picture of one who came into the world to teach men to love one another," he remarked. His last look, as he passed away, was cast upon that painting of Christ. In a codicil to his will was this bequest. "My fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head, curiously wrought in the form of a cap of liberty, I give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, _George Washington_. If it were a sceptre, he has merited it, and would become it." Philanthropist, Scholar, Philosopher, Statesman, were the titles won by the Boston Printer Boy! End of Project Gutenberg's From Boyhood to Manhood, by William M. Thayer