tending on the sick. Indeed, many of them, I believe, hardly thought they could sicken, and die right if they had not old Sarah Humphries with them. Soon as she saw me, she said, • Well David, how dost?'

6

“• O, much after the old sort, Sarah,' said I; but that's neither here nor there; I am come to see doctor Franklin.'. "Well then,' said she, thou art too late, for he is just

dead!

"Alack a day,' said I, then a great man is gone.'

6

"Yes, indeed,' said she, and a good one too; for it seemed as though he never thought the day went away as it ought, if he had not done somebody a service. However, David,' said she, he is not the worse off for all that now, where he is gone to: but come, as thee came to see Benjamin Franklin, thee shall see him yet.' And so she took me into his room. As we entered, she pointed to him, where he lay on his bed, and said, there, did thee ever see any thing look so natural?'

6

And he did look natural indeed. His eyes were closebut that you saw he did not breathe, you would have thought he was in a sweet sleep, he looked so calm and happy. Observing that his face was fixed right towards the chimney, I cast my eyes that way, and behold! just above the mantle

piece was a noble picture! O it was a noble picture, sure enough! It was the picture of our Saviour on the cross. "I could not help calling out, Bless us all, Sarah!' said [, what's all this?"

666

6

"What dost mean, David,' said she, quite crusty. Why, how came this picture here, Sarah ?' said I, know that many people think he was not after this sort."

you

"Yes,' said she, I know that too. But thee knows that many who makes a great fuss about religion have very little, while some who say but little about it have a good deal.'

"That's sometimes the case, I fear, Sarah;' said I.

"Well, and that was the case,' said she, with Benjamin Franklin. But be that as it may, David, since thee asks me about this great picture, I'll tell thee how it came here. Many weeks ago, as he lay, he beckoned me to him, and told me of this picture up stairs, and begged I would bring it to him. I brought it to him. His face brightened up as he looked at it; and he said, Aye, Sarah,' said he, there's a picture worth looking at ! that's the picture of him who came into the world to teach men to love one another!

Then af

ter looking wistfully at it for some time, he said, “Sarah,' said he, set this picture up over the mantlepiece, right before. me as I lie; for I like to look at it,' and when I had fixed it up, he looked at it, and looked at it very much; and indeed, as thee sees, he died with his eyes fixed on it.""

Happy Franklin! Thus doubly blest! Blest in life, by a diligent co-working with "THE GREAT SHEPHERD," in his precepts of perfect love.-Blest in death, with his closing eyes piously fixed upon him, and meekly bowing to the last summons in joyful hope that through the force of his divine precepts, the wintry storms” of hate will one day pass away, and one "eternal spring of love and peace encircle all."

Now Franklin in his lifetime had written for himself an epitaph, to be put upon his grave, that honest posterity might see that he was no unbeliever, as certain enemies had slandered him, but that he firmly believed that his Redeemer liveth; and that in the latter day he shall stand upon the earth; and that though worms destroyed his body, yet in his flesh he should see God."

FRANKLIN'S EPITAPH.

"THE BODY

OF

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER,

LIKE THE COVER OF AN OLD BOOK,
its contents torn out,

and stripped of its lettering and gilding,
lies here food for worms.

Yet the work itself shall not be lost;
for it will, as he believed, appear once more

IN A NEW

and more beautiful edition,

corrected and amended

BY

THE AUTHOR."

This epitaph was never put upon his tomb. But the friend at man needs no stone of the valley to perpetuate his memo

ry. It lives among the clouds of heaven. The lightnings, in their dreadful courses, bow to the genius of Franklin. His magic rods, pointed to the skies, still watch the irrup tions of the FIERY METeors. They seize them by their hissing heads as they dart forth from the dark chambers of the thunders; and cradled infants, half waked by the sudden glare, are seen to curl the cherub smile hard by the spot where the dismal bolts had fallen.

THE END.