As the day wore
away, his life seemed to wear away with it. Towards sunset, his hand
sunk on the bed and lay motionless; his eyes grew glazed; his mouth
remained open, and thus he gradually died.
I could not but feel shocked at this absolute extinction of my kindred.
I dropped a tear of real sorrow over this strange old man, who had thus
reserved his smile of kindness to his deathbed; like an evening sun
after a gloomy day, just shining out to set in darkness. Leaving the
corpse in charge of the domestics, I retired for the night.
It was a rough night. The winds seemed as if singing my uncle's requiem
about the mansion; and the bloodhounds howled without as if they knew
of the death of their old master. Iron John almost grudged me the
tallow candle to burn in my apartment and light up its dreariness; so
accustomed had he been to starveling economy. I could not sleep. The
recollection of my uncle's dying scene and the dreary sounds about the
house, affected my mind. These, however, were succeeded by plans for
the future, and I lay awake the greater part of the night, indulging
the poetical anticipation, how soon I would make these old walls ring
with cheerful life, and restore the hospitality of my mother's
ancestors.
My uncle's funeral was decent, but private, I knew there was nobody
That respected his memory; and I was determined that none should be
summoned to sneer over his funeral wines, and make merry at his grave.
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