On the last evening, when his long life of fourscore years and eight was almost at its lowest ebb, the love for his fellow-men that had thrown a radiance on his whole life was not dim, nor was the natural force of his mind abated. “I shall sadly miss,” his son recorded in his journal, “his warm and intelligent sympathy. Nothing was so acceptable to him, even up to the time of my visiting him last night, as an account of any improvements in progress in the Post-office.” A few days earlier he had exclaimed that he could not have believed that a death-bed could be so pleasant. He knew nothing of that melancholy state when life becomes a burthen and death remains a dread. Much of his happiness arose, he said, from his full confidence in the benevolence of the Creator. He composed the following lines:— ASPIRATIONS ON A DEATH-BED, ON THE PATIENT’S WINDOW BEING OPENED. _Aura veni._ “Come, gentle breeze, come, air divine, Comfort this drooping heart of mine! Ah! solace flows with heaven’s own breath, Which cheers my soul that sank in death. The works of God all speak His praise; To Him eternal anthems raise; This air of heavenly love’s a token, Let pensive musing now be broken, Prayer for far greater boons be spoken. God, couldst Thou find my soul a place Within the realms of boundless grace— The humblest post among the ranks Of those that give Thee endless thanks— Then would my leaping powers rejoice To sing Thy name with heart and voice; Then toil my character to rear, By following Thy commands on purer, loftier sphere. And may I rest my humble frame On Love supreme, which crowns Thy name.” “His last parting with this world was to take one by one the hand of each of his children, and, after placing it near his heart, to kiss it, and point upwards with a radiant expression of intense love and happiness.”