ON SUDDEN DEATHS.

"Sudden to cease, or gently to decline,

Ob, Power of Mercy! let the fate be mine!"

MRS. HUNTER.

ANNE.

How quickly you have returned! I did not expect to see you again so soon.

FRANCES.

We walked as fast as we could, for the weather is so cold, dull, and misty, as to be very unpleasant. The hills could scarcely be seen, and every thing looked gloomy. The church bell, too, was tolling, and as we passed through the churchyard we saw a funeral approaching. Altogether, our walk has given rise to a train of thought that has made me feel quite low-spirited.

ANNE.

Do you know who was to be buried ?

FRANCES.

No; but I heard some poor people, who were loitering to see the funeral, say, "poor man! he died very suddenly."

ANNE.

The general impression on the minds of mankind is, that it is shocking to be suddenly, and without any previous warning, snatched from the world, both to the person who dies in this manner, and to his friends. We pray, in the Litany, to be delivered from "battle, murder, and sudden death," but I think the word "unprepared" would be much better than "sudden."

FRANCES.

Dear! do not you think a sudden death very shocking?

ANNE.

The case appears to me in rather a different light to what it does to you, and did to the compilers of our excellent Liturgy; and I have less compunction in saying so, because I am not disputing the reasonableness of a

Divinedecree, but of a human prayer, dictated by unassisted humanity.

1 FRANCES.

I think death is always an awful event, but still more so when it seizes us unexpectedly.

ANNE.

We never know when the exact moment of our death will be, therefore death, in some measure, is always sudden. Though to a certain degree prepared for it, by a long, painful, and apparently incurable malady, still the most skilful physician dares not say we shall live to such a time and no longer;-we may rally beyond all expectation, or our powers may fail before we are aware.

FRANCES.

This only proves that the period of our death is uncertain; not that sudden death is desirable.

ANNE.

To one whose life has been virtuously spent, death itself brings no horror. Not so always its attendant evils. The mind that can contemplate unshaken the world to come, often

fails under the pressure of disease, pain, and sinking faculties. How trying is the scene of a lingering painful death, to attendant friends! The grief which they would feel, were the beloved object of their care snatched from them at once, is a thousand times repeated during a protracted disease. How often does the father, the mother, the wife, or the child, retire to their sleepless couch, or keep silent watch in the sick room, through the long night, impressed with the agonizing conviction that the objects of their warmest affection will no more open their eyes to the light of heaven. The sufferings of those who experience such moments, must nearly equal the bitterness of death itself; nor will any number of them ensure us from enduring the like number again. You cannot say "the bitterness of death is now past." The next night may bring the same peril, and the same agony, nor can you tell how long it will be ere such sufferings cease.

FRANCES.

If I were quite sure that what you say is true that these acute sufferings do not make death appear less painful when it comes, I

think I should agree with you. But, then, why are they permitted to happen?

ANNE.

I do not mean to say these afflictions are of no use. Far from it. Sickness and the prospect of death, whether for ourselves or those dear to us, contribute more to make us fit for that world to which we are all tending, than any other circumstances of life. But let us enquire whether sudden deaths are so much to be dreaded as you seem to think necessary, either on the score of present suffering or future salvation.

FRANCES.

Surely our grief is much more acute for that of which we are suddenly deprived, than if we had been led to expect its loss!

ANNE.

The grief of friends, however violent, is not half so torturing when occasioned by an unexpected accident, as it would have been if that accident had been long foreseen without the power of arresting its progress.

FRANCES.

1

But what sad confusion and distress is