The following article was suggested and started while sympathizing with a neighbor’s family in the loss of a young child stricken suddenly by death, but was not completed until after the death of a much loved lady school teacher, when it was finished on the request that I write something for the memorial exercises, February, 1894. I was very busy at the time and this, my first literary wrestle with Death, was hot and fast. Hail, Death! But why need we hail thee? Thou comest without our call; Yea, thou comest when wanted not. Thou comest when and where thou wilt, And choosest whom thou wilt. Thou art no respecter of time, or conditions. Thou takest thy victims from every age and station. None so venerable that thou would’st spare them; None so strong thou canst not conquer them: None so pure as to be exempted; None so humble as to escape thy notice. The good and the bad are at thy mercy; Nay, not that, for thou hast no mercy. Wherever man goest, thou goest, The deepest caverns of earth; The highest mountain top; The darkest, densest forest; A thousand miles of stormy sea afford no protection. Go whither man may, thou pursuest him; Side by side thou marchest with him, like a treacherous friend, ready at any moment to become his murderer. The barricades of parental love that shield the tender lives of innocent childhood, are as cobwebs before thy relentless power for destruction. Naught can stay thy gluttonous appetite for victims.