The Camden Weekly Journal

The Death of the Impenitent.—The rich cardinal Beaufort said—And must I die? Will not all my riches save me? I could purchase the kingdom if that would prolong my life. Alas there is no bribing death.

An English nobleman said—I have a splendid passage to the grave, die in state, and languish under a gilded canopy; I am expiring on soft and downy pillows and am respectably attended by my servants and physicians; my dependants sigh; my sisters weep; my father bends beneath a load of grief and years; my lovely wife, pale and silent, conceals her inmost anguish; my friend, who was as my own soul, suppresses his sighs, and leaves me, to hide his secret grief. But oh! which of them will bail me from the arrest of death? Who can descend into the dark prison of the grave with me? Here they all leave me, after having paid a few idle ceremonies to the breathless clay while my soul, my only conscious part, may stand trembling before my Judge.

The celebrated Talleyrand on his death-bed was visited by Louis Philippe, king of the French. "How do you feel" said the king; the answer was, "Sire I am suffering the pangs of the damned."

Sir Thomas Scott said—Until this moment I believed there was neither a God nor a Hell. Now I know and feel that there are both, and I am doomed to perdition by the just judgement of the Almighty.

A rich man when dying, was informed by his physician that he should prepare for the worst. "Cannot I live for a week?" "No," said the doctor, "you will continue but a little while." "Say not so," said the dying man. "I will give you a hundred thousand dollars if you will prolong my life three days," but in less than an hour he was dead.—Lutheran Obs.