If thou hadst discretion we would fear thee less; but thy cruel drag net is set for all, and there is no escape from thy devouring grasp. We charge thee, Death, with unwonted cruelty. There are those whom thou might’st spare for the general good, These are the young, the happy, and the useful; innocent babes in their mother’s arms; prattling darlings on their father’s knees; happy boys and girls in the temples of learning, active and ambitious young men and young women, these, all these are some only whom thou could’st pass by for a time when reaping thy harvest. There is another class, Death, whom I would plead for: it is that noble class engaged in the high calling of training the youthful mind and fitting it for the duties of life. If thou would’st spare any, spare these. Enter not, O cruel Death! Enter not the school house door. Rob us not of the noble teachers, whose loving-kindness, gentle words, and pleasant smiles, have drawn around them the heart strings of affectionate children, unused to sorrows, untrained in the mysteries and miseries of life. Lacerate not their tender hearts. Break not these strong ties of affection. Stand off! Keep away! Lay not your tyrant hands on loving childhood’s noble friend. But I plead in vain. My prayer comes too late. It would have come too late had it come sooner. All human ingenuity, all human power falls before thee, Death. Thou ridest rough shod over all man’s contrivances to hold thee back. Thou enterest every gate, every house, and to thy shame it would be said if thou hadst shame, or any sensation, thou hast crossed the threshold of the school house door. A hundred hearts are mourning, two hundred eyes are weeping, for the flower of their concentrated love, the golden rod of their admiration, a noble woman, a kind teacher, a loving friend, has been torn from them mercilessly, wantonly, cruelly--and thou art the robber. Thou art exposed, Death; this act betrays thee; thou art a monster.