There was a
frank, joyous expression beaming forth from his dark eyes, and his mouth
had always a sweet smile playing about it; there was a high intellectual
forehead, indicating thought, though it was half hidden by the sunny,
brown curls which clustered about it, and gave a youthful look to even
this portion of his face. His tall, well-developed figure was the
perfection of manly symmetry, and his musical laugh was ever ringing out
freely and unconsciously. His temperament was just the reverse of
Arthur's. Bold, courageous, self-relying, he hoped all things, and
feared nothing that man could do; by nature too, he was quick and
passionate, yet full of affection and all generous impulses. Such was
Henry Hamilton, now eighteen years of age--the pride of his family--the
favorite of all who knew him.
The night of his return home, he became violently ill, and no remedies
appeared to relieve his sufferings. I will not pain my young readers
with a recital of his agonies. They were most intense; and on the third
day after he was attacked, at six o'clock in the afternoon, he went from
an earthly to a heavenly home; from the bosom of his mother, to the
bosom of his God! There were few intervals of sufficient ease, to allow
of conversation.
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