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52
THE DOOM OF THE GREAT CITY.
as I knelt and took my mother’s hand. “Mother! sister! awake!”
Ah! God of mercy! The horrid truth came home to me at last. Dead! dead!!
******
Children, I can write no more. I am shaken—unutterably shaken by these recollections. Much more I saw and knew, but, in pity’s sake, press me not to tell you of it. And when you read elsewhere, or others tell you of the doom of that great city, think with tender sorrow of the awful load of memory that has so long been borne by Your Grandfather.
"The rich, the poor, one common bed
Shall find in the unhonour’d grave
Where weeds shall crown alike the head
Of tyrant and of slave.”
Marvell.
Shall find in the unhonour’d grave
Where weeds shall crown alike the head
Of tyrant and of slave.”
Marvell.
J. & W. RIDER, PRINTERS, LONDON.
