Year: 1863

People said this everywhere, when
the morning papers announced the
death of John Russell, President Of the
Bank. They said it on wall street
where they count wealth by the thous-
ands. and they said it in elegant par
lors, and by luxuriant breakfast tables
all over the squares and avenue in the
great city; they said it too, in dark al
leys and squalid homes, where all his
thousands could not buy back to the
millionaire one hour Of the life that was
to them burden and misery. Every
where it was the same story-''He died
rich,''


his family aud his friends thought so
as they gathered around the bed side
of the dying man and you, reader,
would have thought so too, if you could
have looked around that chamber, into
which death was entering with his foot
falls and his ghostly presence.


Oh, it was princly room. Rare pic
lures flushed the wall that winter day
with the glory of Arcadian summer, the
fairest blossoms of Southei Mays were
piled upon the costly carpet, and the
daintily embroidered drapery fell in
soft, crinkled clouds from the massive
beadsteads. And the owner Of all this
magnifcence lay there dying and
through all his life of more than three
score years he had toiled and struggled
for this-.o die rich! He had bought
lands and sold thcm-he had sent rich
ly freighted ships to foreign ports-he
had owned shares in railroads and
stock in the bank and now


All !! there was an angel who stood
at the bed side of John Russell i'll tina.
dying hour, and the man had nothing
out of all his life to give him no gener
Gus, noble, self sacrificing deeds, which
would have been pearls, ard gold, and
all the precious jewels in the hands Of
the angel /; SO he wrote down at the
last chapter Of John iuss,I's life, "Ht
Died Poor


And John Russell saw the words as
his soul foil owed the angel on that jour
nev, which sooner or later, we must
lake, and he knew then, for the first
time, that all the labor and toll, and
struggle for lite OH the earth, had only
brought him this verdict at Il G bar Of
the kingdom Of Heaven, "He Died
Poor.


"He died poor" A very few persons
said this Of an old man who lay in a
back chamber Of small dclapidated
building whose solitary window looked
out on the back garden Of John Rus
sells residence. The floor was bare,
and there was only few chairs, a tabl"
and low bed in the room. BY its
side stood an old black woman, whom
the dying man had occasionly furnished
with an armful Of wood, or loaf Of
bread. She moistencd his lips with
water, or held the tallow candle close
to his dim eyes, SO that he might once
more see the light of .he world. He had
not dollar upon the earth his fortune
had taken wings and flown away his
wife and children had gone before him;
his friends had deserted or lost sight Of
aim, but the grateful old black woman
whom he had saved from starvation.


But the angel with the book stood
there too, and looking over the old
man's..life, he saw how many good ard
gentle, and generous deeds frightened
every year-how he had been kind to
the suffering, and forgiven such wrongs
as make men fiends, and striven through
all the trials and temptations Of his
long, sad life, to be true to God and
himself So the angel wrote under the
las. chapter Of this mans lie and every
letter shone like some rare setting Of
diamonds, "He Died Rich"


And the old man knew it, too, when
he stood at tie gates Of the Eternal City
and they ed him in, and showed him
the s'inheritance to which he was heir"


There was the house not made with
hands, with its columns of pearl, and
its ceilings Of Jasper, with its pleasant
rooms ard its mighty, organs, from
which peals forever the notes Of praise
to our God!


There. too, was the pleasan. land
scape, with its green avenues, its gold
en- pavilions, its trees waving in the
JOY of eternal leaves and its silver mead
ow land sloping down to the river Of
eternal wa.er.-IIe was heir to all
these things, for he had laid up for him