REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF LADY BRENTON.—EXTRACTS FROM THE
PRIVATE MEMORANDA.—SUFFERINGS FROM HIS WOUND, AND REMARKS ON
THE SUBJECT.
Lady Brenton’s death took place on July 29, 1817. A letter addressed to
his mother, dated Simon’s Bay, Sept. 17, 1817, will shew more clearly
than any attempt at description, the feelings with which her attached and
devoted husband contemplated his loss.
“SIMON’S BAY, SEPTEMBER 17th, 1817
“MY DEAR MADAM,
“I have been long intending to write to you, but from the
nature of the melancholy communication you will have received
long before this reaches you, I could with difficulty bring
myself to the exertion necessary.
“The Almighty is indeed merciful to us, and tempers the wind to
our situation. You will scarcely believe, my dear Madam, that
it should be possible for me to say that for some weeks past I
have enjoyed more real tranquillity of mind than I have ever
before known. It is nevertheless absolutely true. My happiest
days were never unattended with anxiety. They were attended at
the same time with a most inadequate idea of the value of the
blessings I possessed. That none ever lost a more inestimable
treasure, all who knew her are deeply sensible. But I humbly
hope that she has shewn me how to live and how to die. I
once thought that I was leading a harmless and a blameless
life, that I had a right to the rewards of another world.
How different are my present sentiments, and how immediately
did they change in this last hour of trial. I felt and feel
so far from having fulfilled the duties of my station, that
every recollection excites remorse by shewing me cause for it.
When I thought I was living in the exercise of the fondest
affection, how much neglect was admitted, and when I try my
religious duties by the same standard, the effect is much more
humiliating and awful, but yet the effect is peace. I no longer
consider my own merit as the means of my ever rejoining my
beloved B.; but the mercy and goodness of God and the atonement
made by our blessed Redeemer. This is a foundation which
nothing can shake, and this makes me view her as only preceding
me for a short time. This consideration, my dear madam, is
not a gloomy one. It has not put me out of conceit of this
life. That would be impious and ungrateful. I shall enjoy with
thankfulness, I hope, the years which a kind Providence may
permit me to remain in this world, and endeavour to devote them
to the duties of my station, to the education and happiness of
my children; but it has taken the sting from death. I think I
shall feel no longer any solicitude on that account, and that
when called for I shall be able to go through my task with
the same serenity that my beloved wife evinced. Had she been
preparing for her journey to England, she could not have been
more calm and collected. May my last end, may all our last ends
be like hers.
“Your most dutiful and affectionate
“J. B.”
He was at the moment unconscious that another loss had occurred, which
was to form a fresh trial for his faith, and was to search still more
deeply the foundation of that peace on which he had been resting. His son
Jervis, the boy to whom reference has been so often made, and in whose
opening qualities the fond parents had delighted to trace the seeds of
much of mental and of moral promise, was carried off by a sudden attack
of fever and sore throat, while at school at Winchester, on August 27,
1817, just one month after his mother’s decease. A letter written to his
brother on this occasion, may with propriety be subjoined, as exhibiting
the spirit of calm Christian submission with which Sir Jahleel resigned
these objects of his tenderest affection.
“SIMONS BAY, JANUARY 16th, 1818.
“MY DEAR E.
“Your kind and affectionate letter I found upon my arrival
from the eastward. The melancholy intelligence contained had
already reached me, having been most considerately sent by ——
to prevent my receiving too sudden a blow upon my return home.
It was indeed severe, but tempered with mercy by that benign
Being, who has granted me a far greater share of blessing
than afflictions, and whose present awful dispensation I
feel every day more and more to be intended for my ultimate
happiness. I was indeed, my dear E. too much absorbed in my
worldly possessions, from my earliest infancy. I had attached
the highest value to domestic felicity, and I need not tell
you to what an extent I was permitted to enjoy it: instead of
finding it like all other worldly objects, greater in prospect
than when present, I experienced that it was more solid and
real than my most sanguine expectations had ever pictured it,
and that my home became every day dearer to me. I almost lost
sight of the hand which bestowed my blessings in the enjoyment
of them, and in my anxiety for their future welfare. I can
now see the wickedness of such feelings. When my beloved wife
was called away from me, the world appeared to have totally
changed its aspect to me, and lost every source of comfort.
Although I neither repined at the divine dispensation, nor gave
myself up to despair, yet there was indifference as to this
life, which I hoped was not culpable, but could not approve. I
almost forgot the blessings which were still left me, and the
necessity for strong exertion to fulfil my duty to them. The
last calamity I now feel to have been sent to awaken me from
so criminal a lethargy, and I hope it has effectually done so.
The first consolatory reflection which came to my assistance,
and it was immediate, was that my darling B. had been spared
the agony which I felt; that her gentle spirit had been placed
beyond the reach of affliction, had been permitted, during
the last weeks of its continuance here, to devote itself to
its Creator without one anxious thought either for itself
or for those dear to it. How dreadfully would this angelic
tranquillity have been disturbed had she heard of the illness
and loss of her darling child. This idea never deserts me,
and has comforted me more than I can describe. I can hardly
persuade myself I have met with a second loss in so short a
time, indeed I have almost lost sight of my own affliction in
the contemplation of their happiness.
“Your affectionate
“J. B.”
The circumstances under which Sir Jahleel received the intelligence
of his son’s death were peculiarly touching. He had been induced to
undertake a journey into the interior, for the double purpose of
exploring the resources which those parts of the country offered for
the naval arsenal, and for ascertaining the possibility of establishing
a coasting trade along the eastern line of coast; and had reached the
town of George, on his return from the mouth of the Knyzna, the proposed
limit of his tour; when he and his companions saw from the house where
they were resting, the postman from Cape Town entering the village by a
bridge. Struck with the coincidence of the scene, Sir Jahleel was on the
point of repeating to his friends the well known lines in which Cowper
contemplates the varied contents of the postman’s bag when arriving in
Olney; when he was compelled to feel the reality of the description by
the letters which he had to open. They contained the intelligence of his
son’s death; whom letters received but a week before had represented
as being in the full enjoyment of health; and the deep and affecting
regret with which the head master announced the loss of his promising and
cherished pupil, must have added to the sadness with which the father
learnt the fact that this treasured tie, to which he had turned with so
much fondness in the first bitterness of his loss, was thus suddenly
taken from him.
The journal from which so much has been drawn on previous occasions,
contains frequent references to this severe and complicated trial. I
merely select a few passages as sufficient to indicate the general
character of his remarks, and as being most contiguous in point of time.
“July 29th, 1818. This, my darling children, is the first anniversary
which has come round of our irreparable loss. It has indeed been a year
of affliction to us, for much as we were prepared for the inevitable
blow as regarded your dear mother, still the awful reality was severely
felt. This was soon followed by another as severe, and unexpected. Your
dear brother was called in a few days after the departure of his angelic
mother to follow her to the grave; but that is not the view in which
we should contemplate our dear departed saints. They were mercifully
called to meet each other in heaven. How benignly does the Almighty
temper our afflictions, that we may be enabled to support our trials.
Had there been an apprehension of such a calamity befalling us, as the
loss we experienced in the course of one short month, we should have
doubted our power to sustain it; but when the last afflicting tidings
came, they found us already prostrate before the throne of mercy, humbly
endeavouring to resign ourselves to the Divine Will, and in such a frame
more able to support the pressure of adversity, than if it had visited
us during some of those periods of indescribable happiness, which our
bountiful and merciful Creator has so frequently been pleased to bestow
upon us. When the loss of your dear brother was announced to me, bitter
as the affliction was, it came accompanied with a source of consolation
of which the effect was instantaneous. The idea that his mother had been
spared the misery of such a loss, that they had met in heaven, that
their sufferings were at an end; that they had been mutually spared the
wretchedness of mourning for each other; these comforting reflections
instantly crowded into my mind, and saved me from much of the anguish
which I must have endured at any other period.
“A whole year has now elapsed, and the retrospect, affecting as it is,
nevertheless abounds in comfort. We have that feeling that the world is
not our all. If it had been, what would have been our situation now?
From my own experience I deeply feel the chastening, but merciful hand
of God in these awful dispensations. They have awakened me to a true
sense of my situation, and have shewn me, that whilst happy here, my
eternal felicity was at stake; for I was guilty of gross idolatry, by
allowing every thought to centre in the blessings bestowed upon me, with
little more than a nominal reference to the all-merciful Providence
from whom I received them. This is the first year of my life in which
I can conscientiously claim to have made any progress in religious
attainments; for greatly defective as I must still allow myself to be, I
feel that I have a deeper sense of the divine presence constantly upon
my mind; that I have less of that dreadful repugnance to the service of
my Maker, and more energy in the performance of it; and I can feel that
in all my pursuits, whether professional or otherwise, I am constantly
influenced by a sense of their being religious duties. The memory of
what I have lost has scarcely ever been absent from my mind, indeed
every thing recalls it, but my tranquillity and even cheerfulness has
been greater than at almost any period of my life, for I have lost all
cause of anxiety. Formerly I was wretched on account of my own health,
about my circumstances and worldly successes, unmindful of the Divine
protection who had never deserted me. Now I learn to resign myself to
His Divine will; to entrust you, my darling children, to his care; and
I have also acquired the conviction that there is no situation in life,
however successful we may be in all our pursuits, capable of conferring
real and permanent happiness; for had I been placed on the pinnacle of
human glory—the admiration, the idol, and the envy of all around me—this
blow would have humbled me to the dust, for I can with sincerity say that
all my successes in life have derived their chief value from your mother
having participated in them.
‘How I dreamt,
Of things impossible! Could sleep do more?
Of joys perpetual, in perpetual change,
Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave,
Perpetual sunshine in the storms of life;
How richly were my noontide trances hung
With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys,
Joy behind joy, in endless perspective!’
“My whole life had been almost such a dream, mixed, it is true, with many
causeless and culpable anxieties. Blessed with all that could render
life a state of happiness, the most perfect description of it, domestic
happiness, I never once considered the certainty that a few years must
end it, but allowed myself to be as much absorbed in the contemplation
of it as though this life were all in all. With a full and perfect
conviction upon my mind of the truths of our holy religion, of the
promises of the gospel, still I found the charms of this world capable
of taking entire possession of me. How differently do I now view it.
Affliction only can clear away the mist from before our eyes, and enable
us to distinguish the fleeting and chequered enjoyments of this world,
from the real and never ending felicity which can only be attained in
that which is to come.
“26th September, 1818.—Nearly fourteen months have now elapsed since the
departure of your beloved mother, and eight since the tidings reached me
of our dear Jervis having followed her to the realms of bliss. During
the whole period of my life I do not remember any to have passed with
more entire tranquillity than this season of affliction, or with more
consistency of reflection.
“When I am suffering most from depression of mind, and the mournful
contemplation of my widowed state, I can readily trace these gloomy
feelings to their source; and find them to have taken possession of me,
as the world renews its cares and influence, and renders the view of
eternity less distinct than when seen through that pass by which your
beloved mother and brother have entered into it.
“24th September, 1820.—A long interruption has here occurred, my darling
children, and prevented for many months the continuance of an employment,
which had not only become most deeply interesting, but in a manner
sacred; as its intention was to keep alive in your minds the remembrance
of your mother’s virtues, and to lead you to cherish them in your hearts,
as so many delightful and irresistible examples for your own conduct.
The interruption has not only been long, but very nearly final, from
the severe illness by which it was occasioned; but a kind and merciful
Providence has, in addition to innumerable mercies and blessings, brought
me through this trial, and restored me, if not to health, at least to the
capability of resuming my former occupations.
“It has often occurred to me whilst lying on the bed of sickness, that
the reflections necessarily suggested by such a state, if accurately
recorded, would not only be of the greatest value to the sufferer,
should he be permitted to recover, but also of inestimable benefit to
many who might have escaped such experience; and it most forcibly struck
me, as a most appropriate subject for this journal, in which I hope, my
dear children, you will continue to derive religious instructions from
your affectionate parents, long after the period in which they will
have been called away from you. Here under the influence of the most
tender associations and recollections, you will find yourselves assured
that the hour of affliction is rarely, if ever, without its sources of
alleviation; to the sincere Christian, I may add with confidence, never.
“My illness was occasioned by cold, and violent inflammation in my
wound, which had been closed for upwards of four years. This led to the
formation of an extensive abscess, which for some days kept me in a very
dangerous state; it confined me to my bed for several weeks, and for six
months has reduced me to the state of a cripple, in which I must expect
to remain for some time longer. I do not remember during any period of my
illness to have considered the danger imminent, but I feel a comfort in
the recollection that I had no considerable anxiety, or any afflicting
thoughts, even in the most alarming moments. But I had many serious
and salutary reflections, for which I hope to be the better during the
remainder of my days. The retrospect of the last years of my life did
not afford me the consolation and confidence which I had so often and
so presumptuously flattered myself it would have done. On the contrary,
it brought the most unanswerable evidence that I had been living in
error and vanity, in a system of Christianity very different from that
laid down by our blessed Saviour. This was the light in which I began
to view the last, and what I had arrogantly considered the meritorious
part of my conduct; but how innumerable were the instances, or rather
how constant was the practice of my ‘living without God in the world.’
How entirely did I find that I had devoted myself to this life, and
how faint were the impressions of the life to come. And yet I had been
in the habit of considering myself so certain of salvation, as to look
forward to death as the only source of consolation for the affliction
I had experienced in the loss of your sainted parent and brother. Such
a confidence is indeed a delightful one if it be properly and rightly
sustained; and if it can be rationally indulged, is certain of being
efficacious under the heaviest pressure of worldly misery. But it is
not to be attained so easily as we are frequently induced to imagine,
by dividing our affections between this world and the world to come;
or rather by paying a formal heartless worship to God, whilst all our
thoughts are occupied in our worldly treasures, in those we have lost, or
in those we still possess or fear to lose. Could we bring ourselves to
say with real sincerity of heart and perfect resignation, ‘Thy holy will
be done;’ could we devote the remainder of our lives to Him, who gives
and takes away, as infinite wisdom suggests; could we enjoy the blessings
of this life with gratitude, but look forward with hope, delight, and
confidence to the divine promises for eternal happiness, then indeed we
might say, ‘O! death where is thy sting, O! grave where is thy victory!’
We might then say with the excellent and pious Doddridge, that ‘the cords
of affection which would have tied us to the earth, and have added new
pangs to our removal from it, are become as a golden chain to draw us
upward, and add one further charm and joy to even paradise itself.’ This
most desirable, most pleasant state of mind can never be gained by our
own unassisted exertions. This is a truth which cannot be too frequently
repeated to us. Thousands have sought for it in vain. To obtain it, we
must unreservedly give ourselves to our blessed Redeemer, and seek for
comfort through His divine atonement. My frame of mind previous to this
illness had been very different. I thought less of the awful deficiency,
which must appear when I should be called upon to render an account of
the talent which had been committed to my charge, than of my fancied
superiority over such of my fellow creatures as were openly disobeying
the commandments of God; and like the self-righteous Pharisee, I felt, if
I did not express, my self-gratulation in not being as the ‘Publican;’
little reflecting, that he might be inwardly struggling against an evil
nature, performing acts of virtue unknown to all but his Creator, and
depending solely for help and pardon on Him, who says, ‘whosoever cometh
unto me I will in no ways cast out.’ Reflections such as these could
have no effect in inspiring confidence or hope, when on the confines of
death, or in bearing up the spirit to sustain its infirmities; they were
consequently rejected as productive rather of despair than consolation. I
am happy to say, they were as transitory as useless, and that I turned
at once to Him, who alone could give me peace, to our blessed Saviour and
Redeemer. His words appeared to be instantly verified. I felt the burden
with which I was ‘weary and heavy laden,’ at once removed, and that I
could cast my care on Him. I prayed for strength of mind to conquer my
worldly feelings and propensities; for gratitude for all the blessings
vouchsafed to me, but above all for that most stupendous sacrifice, by
which I was redeemed from sin and misery; that it might bring forth in me
the most perfect resignation to the Divine Will, the most perfect trust
and confidence in God; the most unbounded and indefatigable charity to
my fellow creatures. If I am still without the object of this prayer,
yet I have the comfort of knowing, that I am much more sensible of my
deficiencies; and that I do daily and constantly indulge the humble
hope, that I shall be graciously assisted in conquering the remaining
depravities and corruptions of my nature.
“Blessed with all that could render life a state of happiness, the most
perfect description of it, domestic happiness; I never once considered
the certainty that a few years must end it, but allowed myself to be as
much absorbed in the contemplation of it as though this life were all
in all. With a full and perfect conviction upon my mind of the truths
of our Holy Religion, and of the promises of the gospel, still I found
the charms of this world capable of taking entire possession of me. How
differently do I now view it. Affliction only can clear away the mist
from our eyes, and enable us to distinguish the fleeting and chequered
enjoyments of this world, from the real and never ending felicity which
can only be attained in that which is to come.”
In allusion to the death of his wife and his son—“Those events which in
the course of my life have appeared the most unpromising, and have been
attended with the most anxiety, have frequently and generally proved the
sources of comfort and happiness. The two heavy dispensations, which have
lately befallen me, cannot have such consequences in this world; but I
fervently and humbly trust they may be the means of preparing me for
eternal happiness in the next, by awakening me from an attachment to the
things of this life, which almost exclusively occupied my thoughts. The
more innocent the affections, the more we are inclined to indulge them,
and the less do we perceive our danger of being drawn away from God. But
the Almighty in his wisdom and mercy knew what was best for me. He has
afflicted me, and I humbly implore his Holy Spirit to give me perfect
resignation to his Divine will. How keen would have been my grief for
the loss of so promising a child as your brother Jervis, at such an age,
and whom I had fondly contemplated as my successor and representative,
if I had only thought of him in a worldly point of view. But seeing him
as I do, disposed of by Divine wisdom, I resign him into the hands of
his Maker. It is true, he will never more come to me, but I humbly trust
I shall go to him. May worldly wisdom grow every day more insignificant
in your eyes, my dear children; at least such wisdom as is so generally
sought for. You will soon attain the delightful experience, that even for
success, prosperity, and happiness in this world, Divine Wisdom is all
in all.”
“October the 12th.—The frequent menacing appearances which my health
and wound assume, form a constant source of serious reflection, and I
feel that it may be neither unimportant, nor a waste of time, to note
these thoughts down as they occur. They may be of infinite benefit to
you, my dear children, in influencing your conduct on similar occasions,
should you be visited by them; and the experience of those we love has
a powerful effect in fixing our resolutions, and dictating our line of
conduct. In the first place then, I am more than ever convinced that
trials and afflictions are sent for our good, sent in kindness and in
mercy; and that so far from repining under them, we incur an awful
responsibility, if we do not turn them to good account, by taking them
as warnings against our worldly attachments, and by listening to the
voice with which they so earnestly direct us towards eternity. This duty
is obvious and imperative, however hard to fulfil. It is now the chief
object of my solicitude; and I feel that I can only appropriate to myself
the blessed hope of immortality, in proportion to the measure in which
I can resign myself to the Divine will, and preserve my mind unshaken
by the cares and anxieties of life. So happy a frame of mind is neither
easily to be acquired, nor long preserved, amidst the shocks to which we
are exposed, and the conflicting passions of our nature. I hope, however,
I have succeeded, my dearest my beloved children, in resigning you into
the hands of a merciful, and an omnipotent Protector; and I humbly
trust that you will ever remain under his paternal care, receiving with
gratitude the blessings He bestows, and seeking the Divine approbation as
your only object.”
The narrative has perhaps been suspended too long, while the private
meditations and recollections of this excellent man have been thus
brought before the reader. But the Editor feels no apology due for the
delay. It has been said already, and said more than once, that the object
of the present volume was to present to the public the picture, not
of the seaman, or the officer, but of the man; and the portrait would
have been incomplete, it would have been deficient in that which like
expression in painting, gives the chief value to the representation,
if dwelling on features of general interest, and which must arrest
universal attention, it had neglected or omitted others more adapted to
private life, and suited to personal application. The world have long
known what Sir Jahleel Brenton was on the deck, in the hour of action,
or the storm. It is the object of the present memoir to shew what he
was in the retirement of his home, as a husband, a father, and a man;
and with this in view, the Editor trusts that he has not trespassed too
largely, either on the patience of his readers, or on the sacredness of
private memorials, by shewing how Sir Jahleel Brenton bore the trials
to which he was subjected in private life, and the exemplary manner in
which he discharged the several relations in which he stood. It need
not be doubted that the service included officers, whose courage, whose
zeal, whose intelligence and self-possession were equal to his; and it
is possible that there were some who might have been compared to him in
other respects; but it is the combination of qualities which gives to
character its peculiarity; and it is the peculiarity of character which
renders its example profitable. The earlier portion of the narrative
exhibited its subject in the form which appeared most consistent with his
excellence as an officer; but justice seems to require, that he who was
as admirable for the gentler qualities of his nature, as for those which
were suited to arrest the world’s notice, should be presented to the
reader in other scenes, and under other trials; as occupying the painful
post of observation, while watching the sick-bed of that wife, for whom
he had entertained an attachment as romantic as it was reasonable; as
subsequently cherishing and educating the children, whom her lengthened
sickness and early removal had devolved on his care; as exercising all
the graces of Christian benevolence in his intercourse with his fellow
creatures, wherever his lot was cast; and as engaged in seeking comfort
for himself, under a loss that seemed to be irreparable, by meditating on
the promises of scripture.
The character of the remainder of his life was to be essentially
different from that of its commencement. The excitement of hope, the
energy of enterprize, the exultation of triumph were to be exchanged
for calmer feelings, adapted to the circumstances in which he was to be
placed. But a surer test of excellence can hardly be conceived, than to
see it uniformly exhibited under every variety of position; exposed to
trial in different ways, and superior to trial in all; and the principle
which supports men under successive forms of temptation, which overcomes
the weaknesses of age as well as the weaknesses of youth, and gives to
every part of life the same characteristic tone of goodness, is the most
entitled to admiration, as it proves most effectively the purity of its
original.
From the date of Lady Brenton’s death, Sir Jahleel’s residence at the
Cape did not include any event which calls for particular notice. The
stirring interests of a time of war had been succeeded by a peace, which
seemed more likely to be durable, from the exhaustion to which the
contending powers had been reduced by the length of the previous contest.
The duties of his office occupied his day; the care of his children
occupied his earlier and later hours; and few men were better qualified
by talent, taste, and habitual gentleness of mind for the discharge of
this last—this anxious and delicate duty. Having the singular advantage
of a sister residing with him, and of a sister who sympathised with all
his feelings, and entered into all his views, he was able to pursue with
less uneasiness the labours which his public employment occasioned,
even when they rendered absence from home necessary; and shortly after
the event which left him a widower, he felt it his duty to undertake a
journey of considerable extent, along the Eastern coast as far as the
mouth of the Knyzna; in order to ascertain, by personal observation,
some points of considerable importance for the public service. Of these
the chief were to investigate the facilities for establishing a coasting
trade along the shores of the colony, and to examine resources which the
mouth of the river Knyzna offered as a harbour for the shipping employed
for this purpose; and connected with this, to get some information as
to the quality of the timber produced in the forests, and its fitness
for the purposes of the dock-yard. He has left a detailed narrative of
this journey, which amply deserves publication, and which accordingly
is printed as it is found. It contains an interesting description of
the scenery through which he passed—a country which even at present is
comparatively unknown; but it is still more valuable as exhibiting the
character of the mind with which he viewed it. The journey was undertaken
very shortly after the loss which seemed to him so irreparable; and yet
we meet with no querulous expressions of grief, no idle recollections
of past happiness. He had resigned the being whom he loved above all
earthly things to the will of Him, from whom he had first received her;
and conscious that the best resource for his own weakness was employment;
and trusting that the discharge of duty would bring consolation with it,
he seems to have looked round for opportunities of usefulness, and to
have sought comfort for himself in endeavouring to do good to others.
Gifted as he was with a taste for scenery, and capable of viewing every
combination in nature with an artist’s eye, the remarks with which his
journal are filled, are chiefly characterized by benevolence and zeal
for his country’s service. In every place he visits, the welfare of
the people, and the means of public improvement, are the objects that
principally attract his attention; and while every thing is noted, and
noted in a way which shews how fully it was appreciated, an universal
desire to do good predominates in the observations which he makes, and
marks what was passing in the heart of the writer.
The narrative concludes abruptly, and the reader who has accompanied him
in his wanderings through that beautiful, and at that time unexplored
region, will hear with pain that the cause, which terminated the journey,
and closed the narrative so suddenly, was the arrival of a letter which
reached him on his way back from the mouth of the Knyzna, and which
announced the death of his son Jervis. This boy, to whom such frequent
reference has been made in the Journal, and whose character seemed to
justify all that was felt towards him, died at Winchester School, after
a very short illness, and within a few days of that which closed Lady
Brenton’s life. His fond mother was spared the pang of hearing of that
event, and he was spared the pain with which he must have heard of her
release; but Sir Jahleel, through this singular concurrence of trials,
merely passed from one affliction to meet the shock of the other; and
perhaps was thus to learn that no earthly comfort was to be made use of
as a resting place for the soul, or to occupy affections which were due
to God alone.