"Ah! my good Barzello! thou hast come once more to see thy friend Joram,
before he leaves for the spirit land."

"If thou art to go first," replied the old soldier, "we shall not long be
separated; with me, also, the battle of life will soon be closed."

"I find, Barzello, that my race is well-nigh run! I am fast passing away.
I have a strong impression that this day I shall join the society of
immortals; therefore I thought fit to send for my best friend, to be with
me in my dying moments. I am spared to see a good old age. For the last
forty years my cup of joy has been often filled and running over. Jehovah
has dealt with his servant in great kindness. The iniquities of my youth
are forgiven--I am at peace with the God of Israel."

The sick man desired to be raised a little higher on his pillow.

"That is better. Now I can see you all. We must soon part; my sun is fast
sinking, and in a few hours Joram will be gone. The chariot will soon
call. I chide you not for your tears, for here on earth I know too well
their value. In that bright world above where Jehovah dwells, and where
angels spread their wings, no tears are found."

Joram, quite exhausted, closed his eyes, and deep silence for a while
prevailed. He soon revived, and called for Perreeza.

"What can I do for my ever-dear uncle?" whispered Perreeza.

"One more little song, accompanied by the harp of Judah," said Joram,
with a smile, "and I ask no more."