by the discipline and the
stimulus of freedom, begun in obedience to God and fidelity to men, and
there remain the love that embraces all--the meek faith that can bear to
be betrayed, but is ashamed to doubt--the generosity that can forgive
offences seventy-and-seven times renewed--the simple, open, joyous
spirit which marks such as are of the kingdom of heaven. Lord! I thank
Thee that Thou hast made me the servant of this race!"

Never, during the years of his lowliness, or the days of his grandeur,
had Toussaint spent a brighter hour than now, while the spirit of
prophecy (twin-angel with death) visited him, and showed him the realms
of mind which were opening before his race--that countless host whose
van he had himself led to the confines. This spirit whispered something
of the immortality of his own name, hidden, lost as he was in his last
hours.

"Be it so!" thought he, "if my name can excite any to devotedness, or
give to any the pleasure of being grateful. If my name live, the
goodness of those who name it will be its life; for my true self-will
not be in it. No one will the more know the real Toussaint. The
weakness that was in me when I felt most strong, the reluctance when I
appeared most ready, the acts of sin from which I was saved by accident
alone, the divine constraint of circumstances to which my best deeds
were owing--these things are between me and my God. If my name and my
life are to be of use, I thank God that they exist; but this outward
existence of them is nothing between Him and me. To me henceforward
they no more belong than the name of Epaminondas, or the life of Tell.
Man stands naked on the brink of the grave, his name stripped from him,
and his deeds laid down as the property of the society he leaves behind.
Let the name and deeds I now leave behind be a pride to generations yet
to come--a more innocent pride than they have sometimes, alas! been to
me. I have done with them."

Toussaint had often known what hunger was--in the mornes he had endured
it almost to extremity. He now expected to suffer less from it than
then, from being able to yield to the faintness and drowsiness which had
then to be resisted. From time to time during his meditations, he felt
its sensations visiting him, and felt them without fear or regret. He
had eaten his loaf when first hungry, and had watched through the first
night, hoping to sleep his long sleep the sooner, when his fire should
at length