Pestilence had come, and the frightened multitude were fleeing from the
scourge. There was one who came and proffered the hospitality of his
home--where Hygeia smiled and fever never came. Thither he went, but
the poison was in his blood, and as he slept it seized upon his vitals.
His suffering was terrible, and for days life's uncertain tenure seemed
ready to release her hold on time. In his fever-dream there was
flitting about him a fairy form; it would come and go, as the moonlight
on the restless wave--a moment seen and in a moment gone. He saw and
knew nothing for many days distinctly; he would call for his mother and
weep, when only winds would answer. Delirium was in his brain, and wild
fancies chased each other; he heard the crowing of cocks and saw his
sister; his father would come to him, and he would stretch out his hand
and grasp the shadowy nothing. There was a halo of beauty all about
him; prismatic hues trembled in the light, and the tones of sweet music
floated upon the breeze. He saw angels swimming in the golden light;
the blue ether opened, and they came through to greet him and to
welcome him to heaven.
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