r
how John Burley came to fish for the one-eyed perch which he never
caught; and how, when he gave it up at the last, his baits all gone, and
the line broken amongst the weeds, you comforted the baffled man. There
are many good fellows yet in the world who will like to know that poor
Burley did not die on a dunghill. Kiss me. Come, boy, you too. Now, God
bless you, I should like to sleep." His cheeks were wet with the tears
of both his listeners, and there was a moisture in his own eyes, which,
nevertheless, beamed bright through the moisture.

He laid himself down again, and the old woman would have withdrawn the
light. He moved uneasily. "Not that," he murmured,--"light to the last!"
and putting forth his wan hand, he drew aside the curtain so that the
light might fall full on his face.

[Every one remembers that Goethe's last words are said to have been,
"More Light;" and perhaps what has occurred in the text may be
supposed a plagiarism from those words. But, in fact, nothing is
more common than the craving and demand for light a little before
death. Let any consult his own sad experience in the last moments
of those whose gradual close he has watched and tended. What more
frequent than a prayer to open the shutters and let in the sun?
What complaint more repeated and more touching than "that it is
growing dark"? I once knew a sufferer, who did not then seem in
immediate danger, suddenly order the sick room to be lit up as if
for a gala. When this was told to the physician, he said gravely,
"No worse sign."]

In a few minutes he was asleep, breathing calmly and regularly as an
infant.

The old woman wiped her eyes, and drew Leonard softly into the adjoining
room, in which a bed had been made up for him. He had not left the house
since he had entered it with Dr. Morgan. "You are young, sir," said she,
with kindness, "and the young want sleep. Lie down a bit: I will call
you when he wakes."

"No, I could not sleep," said Leonard. "I will watch for you."

The old woman shook her head. "I must see the last of him, sir; but I
know he will be angry when his eyes open on me, for he has grown very
thoughtful of others."

"Ah, if he had but been, as thoughtful of himself!" murmured Leonard;
and he seated himself by the table, on which, as he leaned his elbow, he
dislodged some papers placed there. They fell to the ground with a dumb,
moaning, sighing sound.--

"What is that?" sa