« ПредишнаНапред »
of being soon lost one's self. But besides that no young age can be insured against this, even here is consolation in hope—the hope of living again, and in a better world joining the loved beings who have gone before us. I thank God that, far from having parted with this hope, it has increased with my years, and in the indulgence of it I wait with calmness the approach of the inaudible and noiseless foot of Time.'”
I could not, and indeed wished not, to reply to this, for I felt both its force and its pathos.
A pause ensued, which, from its solemnity, neither of us seemed inclined to interrupt, till, warming with his last sentiment, he asked me if I had ever seen some beautiful lines of Hughes, which he said should be written in letters of gold:
“ There let Time's creeping winter shed
His reverend snow around my head;
END OF VOL. II.