the brave Patient calm as ever, ready to speak as ever,
--to say, in direct words which he would often do, or indirectly
as his whole speech and conduct did, "God is Great." Anthony and
he talked for a while, then took leave for the night; in
few minutes more, Anthony was summoned to the bedside, and
at eleven o'clock, as I said, the curtain dropt, and it was
all ended.--_Euge!_

Whether the American _Manuscripts_ had arrived I do not yet know,
but probably shall before this Letter goes; for Anthony is to
return hither on Tuesday, and I will inquire. Our Friend is
buried in Ventnor Churchyard; four big Elms overshadow the
little spot; it is situated on the southeast side of that green
Island, on the slope of steep hills (as I understand it) that
look toward the Sun, and are close within sight and hearing of
the Sea. There shall he rest, and have fit lullaby, this brave
one. He has died as a man should; like an old Roman, yet with
the Christian Bibles and all newest revelations present to him.
He refused to see friends; men whom I think he loved as well as
any,--me for one when I obliquely proposed it, he refused. He
was even a little stern on his nearest relatives when they came
to him: Do I need your help to die? Phocion-like he seemed to
feel degraded by physical decay; to feel that he ought to wrap
his mantle round him, and say, "I come, Persephoneia; it is not
I that linger!"--His Sister-in-law, Anthony's Wife, probably
about a month ago, while they were still in Wight, had begged
that she might see him yet once; her husband would be there too,
she engaged not to speak. Anthony had not yet persuaded him,
when she, finding the door half open, went in: his pale changed
countenance almost made her shriek; she stept forward silently,
kissed his brow in silence; he burst into tears. Let us speak
no more of this.--A great quantity of papers, I understand, are
left for my determination; what is to be done with them I will
sacredly endeavor to do.

I have visited your Bookseller Chapman; seen the Proof-sheets
lying on his table; taken order that the reprint shall be well
corrected,--indeed, I am to read every sheet myself, and in that
way get acquainted with it, before it go into stereotype.
Chapman is a tall, lank youth of five-and-twenty; full of good
will, but of what other equipment time must yet try. By a little
Book of his, which I looked at some months ago, he seemed to me
sunk very dee