I was the more encouraged, as I saw,
from our first acquaintance, his declining health, and expected that the
event would prove as it has. Think not, however, that I rejoice in his
death. No; far be it from me; for though I believe that I never felt the
passion of love for Mr. Haly, yet a habit of conversing with him, of
hearing daily the most virtuous, tender, and affectionate sentiments
from his lips, inspired emotions of the sincerest friendship and esteem.
He is gone. His fate is unalterably, and I trust happily, fixed. He
lived the life, and died the death, of the righteous. O that my last end
may be like his! This event will, I hope, make a suitable and abiding
impression upon my mind, teach me the fading nature of all sublunary
enjoyments, and the little dependence which is to be placed on earthly
felicity. Whose situation was more agreeable, whose prospects more
flattering, than Mr. Haly's? Social, domestic, and connubial joys were
fondly anticipated, and friends and fortune seemed ready to crown every
wish; yet, animated by still brighter hopes, he cheerfully bade them all
adieu. In conversation with me but a few days before his exit, "There
is," said he, "but one link in the chain of life undissevered; that, my
dear Eliza, is my attachment to you. But God is wise and good in all his
ways; and in this, as in all other respects, I would cheerfully say, His
will be done.
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