ish you to know what kind of man my father
was; you will the better comprehend the cause of my grief, and of his
empire over me, as well as all that I shall one day confide to
you."--Corinne took this manuscript, which Oswald never parted from, and
in a trembling voice read the following pages.

"Oh ye just, beloved of the Lord! you can speak of death without fear;
for you it is only a change of habitation, and that which you quit is
perhaps the least of all! Oh numberless worlds, which in our sight fill
the boundless region of space! unknown communities of God's creatures;
communities of His children, scattered throughout the firmament and
ranged beneath its vaults, let our praises be joined to yours! We are
ignorant of your condition, whether you possess the first, second, or
last share of the generosity of the Supreme Being; but in speaking of
death or of life, of time past or of time to come, we assimilate our
interests with those of all intelligent and sensible beings, no matter
where placed, or by what distance separated from us. Families of
peoples! Families of nations! Assemblage of worlds! you say with us,
Glory to the Master of the Heavens, to the King of Nature, to the God of
the Universe! Glory and homage to Him, who by his will can convert
sterility into abundance, shadow into reality, and death itself into
eternal life.

"Undoubtedly the end of the just is a desirable death; but few amongst
us, few amongst our forefathers have witnessed it. Where is the man who
could approach without fear the presence of the Eternal? Where is the
man who has loved God unremittingly, who has served Him from his youth,
and who, attaining an advanced age, finds in his recollections no
subject of uneasiness? Where is the man, moral in all his actions,
without ever thinking of the praise and the reward of public opinion?
Where is that man, so rare among the human species, who is worthy to
serve as a model to all? Where is he? Where is he? Ah! if he exist
amongst us, let our reverence and respect surround him; and ask, you
will do wisely to ask, to be present at his death, as at the sublimest
of earthly spectacles: only arm yourself with courage to follow him to
that bed, so repulsive to our feelings, from which he will never rise.
He foresees it; he is certain of it; serenity reigns in his countenance,
and his forehead seems encircled with a celestial aureole: he says, with
the apostle, _I know in whom I have believed_; and th