The Brookhaven ledger. (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1875-1883, 1879-09-11
An Oratorss Last Words.

was the idolized lawyer of the South
west. A Maine boy, he made himself
place in the hearts of those who liked
not the Yankees. HIS genius fasciua~
ted' his genial manners won them i'll
spite of their prejudices.
He might have been their political
leader, but brief experinco In Com
gress so dsgnsted him with practical
politics that he refused its honors. a
fortune awaited him. but he turned
from it. because he would not abandon
social pleasures, nor practice self-deu~
ial. at last he resolved to work HIM
self ont of debt. aud provide for tho
education of his children.
II must WORK" he said to those. who
had advised rest, because they saw that
his good resolution had come too late.
The spirit WAS now willing, but tho
body, enfeebled by disease and dissipa-
ton. refused to obey its commando. ~
"Why, good sirs, a man cannot lie
in bed and make his living" he answer
ed to friends who bade him leave
New Orleans and rest on plantation.
Nerving himself, he, appeared in n
case which drew out the culture of the
CITY to see him. Never was he more
brilliant in wit and eloquence. He did
not know, but his friends did, that it
was the swans death-song. They shad-
ed their eyes, for they saw the vigor OF
the intellect make moro apparent the
decay of the body.
Take me home" he whispered to a
friend, when recovering from the pros
tration in which his eloquent plea bad
left him. He was borne homo on n
river boat-to die.
On the night OF the arrival the family
smiled mournfully to see his old self
return.
Gather me half bushel of rosos
with the dew on" he said to a relative.
Put them in basin and stand it by
my bed" was the remark as the roses
we're brought in,
During his illness the thought that
he was leaving his family destitute
made him talk much about suits and
raising money. Now and then the
orator became a boy again, and wander
ed to his Maine home.
Dear mother, do you love me?" re-
peated again aud again, showed that
her teachings aud prayers were i'll his
mind.
In the hours Of Consciousness he WAS
much distressed at the idea of death.
Mary, his pious wife, urged him to
trust in the Saviour.
"You do not know how wicked have
been. God will never forgive me-" he
replied.
9Th ough your sins be as scarlet.
they shall be as white as snow,'" re-
piled the wife, "if you will turn to the
Lord"
pray, dear. Won't you pray? Don't
YOU remember the prayers your mother
taught you?' she continued.
80 yes! but l want you too pray with
me-"
She repeated the Lords Prayer. he
to each petition, "Amen!'
80 God, tho Son!" she heard him
whisper, as if striving to recall the pes
tition of the Litany; go Col the Son.
Redeemer of the world, have mercy up
on rs miserable siunersp'
On a Sabbath evening the wife was
busy IN the room, his eyes wistfully fol-
lowing her.
"Mary!' she heard, and hast ening to
him, received an embrace aud kiss.
It was the last word uttered on earth by
the eloquent advocate.
One solemn thought is suggested.
no words uttered by the orator in mos
ments of highest inspiration were so
treasured as those whispered, "Amens"
aud that sgh-out, 80 God, the Son"
They were words of penitence.
His imagination in its uttermost
wauderings Eever brought back scene
which thrilled as did the "D4ar, dear
mother, do you love me?"
It revealed the boy at his mothers
knee, and suggested the hope that at
last he received the Saviour as little
child.