ushering in of night, so that since it has been stilled, our
dwelling has seemed to be almost without an occupant," lamented the
stricken father to Elizabeth Pease, of Darlington, England.

"Death itself to me is not terrible, is not repulsive," poured the
heartbroken pioneer into the ears of his English friend, "is not to be
deplored. I see in it as clear an evidence of Divine wisdom and
beneficence as I do in the birth of a child, in the works of creation,
in all the arrangements and operations of nature. I neither fear nor
regret its power. I neither expect nor supplicate to be exempted from
its legitimate action. It is not to be chronicled among calamities; it
is not to be styled "a mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence"; it
is scarcely rational to talk of being resigned to it. For what is more
rational, what more universal, what more impartial, what more
serviceable, what more desirable, in God's own time, hastened neither by
our ignorance or folly?...

"When, therefore, my dear friend, I tell you that the loss of my dear
boy has overwhelmed me with sadness, has affected my peace by day and my
repose by night, has been a staggering blow, from the shock of which I
find it very difficult to recover, you will not understand me as
referring to anything pertaining to another state of existence, or as
gloomily affected by a change inevitable to all; far from it. Where the
cherished one who has been snatched from us is, what is his situation,
or what his employment, I know not, of course; and it gives me no
anxiety whatever. Until I join him at least my responsibility to him as
his guardian and protector has ceased; he does not need my aid, he
cannot be benefited by my counsel. That he will still be kindly cared
for by Him who numbers the very hairs of our heads, and without whose
notice a sparrow cannot fall to the ground; that he is still living,
having thrown aside his mortal drapery, and occupying a higher sphere of
existence, I do not entertain a doubt. My grief arises mainly from the
conviction that his death was premature; that he was actually defrauded
of his life through unskillful treatment; that he might have been saved,
if we had not been so unfortunately situated at that time. This to be
sure, is not certain; and not being certain, it is only an ingredient of
consolation that we find in our cup of bitterness."

The pioneer was one of the most generous of givers. Poor indeed he was,
much beyond the co