superseded by the strong arm of the angel of
the covenant, sent to bear her fast across the flood. In life they
were united to a oneness seldom witnessed on earth; in death they
were not separated except by the thinnest partition. Though her
spirit was taken up first to the great and holy communion above, the
"ministering angel of God's love let her body remain with him as a
pledge until his own spirit was called to join hers in the joint
mansion of their eternal rest. On the very day that her body was
carried to its long home, his own unloosed, to its upward flight,
the soul that had made it shine for half a century like a temple
erected to the Divine Glory. The years allotted to him on earth
were even to a day. Just sixty-six were measured off to him, and
then "the wheel ceased to turn at the cistern," and he died on his
birthday. An affecting coincidence also marked the departure of his
beloved wife. She left on the birthday of her eldest son, who had
intended to make the anniversary the dating-day of domestic
happiness, by choosing it for his marriage.

A few facts will suffice for the history of the closing scene.
About the middle of October, 1862, Mrs. Webb, whose health seemed
failing, went to visit her brother, Henry Marshall, Esq., residing
in Cambridge. Here she suddenly became much worse, and the prospect
of her recovery more and more doubtful. Mr. Webb was with her
immediately on the first unfavorable turn of her illness, together
with other members of the family. When he realised her danger, and
the hope of her surviving broke down within him, his physical
constitution succumbed under the impending blow, and two days before
her death, he was prostrated by a nervous fever, from which he never
rallied, but died on the 10th of November. Although the great
visitation was too heavy for his flesh and blood to bear, his spirit
was strengthened to drink this last cup of earthly trial with
beautiful serenity and submission. It was strong enough to make his
quivering lips to say, in distinct and audible utterance, and his
closing eyes to pledge the truth and depth of the sentiment, "Thy
will be done!" One who stood over him in these last moments says,
that, when assured of his own danger, his countenance only seemed to
take on a light of greater happiness. He was conscious up to within
a few minutes of his death, and, though unable to speak
articulately, responded by expressions of his countenance to