tures. Latin is the language of law
and scholarship, French of conversation and diplomacy, German of
philosophy, English of commerce. But in the most sacred moments and
transactions of life there is no language like that of the Bible.
Especially is this the case in everything connected with death. On a
tombstone, for example, how irrelevant, as a rule, seem all other
quotations, but how perfect is the fitness of a verse from Scripture.
And on a death-bed there are no words which so well become the dying
lips.

This is strikingly illustrated by the following extract, guaranteed as
authentic, from a private diary:--"I remember, when I was a student,
visiting a dying man. He had been in the university with me, but a few
years ahead; and, at the close of a brilliant career in college, he was
appointed to a professorship of philosophy in a colonial university.
But, after a very few years, he fell into bad health; and he came home
to Scotland to die. It was a summer Sunday afternoon when I called to
see him, and it happened that I was able to offer him a drive. His
great frame was with difficulty got into the open carriage; but then he
lay back comfortably and was able to enjoy the fresh air. Two other
friends were with him that day--college companions, who had come out
from the city to visit him. On the way back they dropped into the
rear, and I was alone beside him, when he began to talk with
appreciation of their friendship and kindness. 'But,' he said, 'do you
know what they have been doing all day?' I could not guess. 'Well,'
he said, 'they have been reading to me _Sartor Resartus_; and oh! I am
awfully tired of it.' Then, turning on me his large eyes, he began to
repeat, 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that
Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief;'
and then he added with great earnestness, 'There is nothing else of any
use to me now.' I had not opened the subject at all: perhaps I was
afraid to introduce it to one whom I felt to be so much my superior;
but I need not say how overjoyed I was to obtain such a glimpse into
the very depths of a great, true mind." _Sartor Resartus_ is one of
the best of books; there are few to be so heartily recommended. Yet
there are moments in life--and those immediately before death are among
them--when even such a book may be felt to be irrelevant, and, indeed,
no book is appropriate except the one which contains the