altars, and our firesides.

The death-bed of my mother has been described to me as a touching
and melancholy scene. It appears that as this meek and retired woman
was extricated from the coil of mortality, her intellect grew
brighter, her powers of discernment stronger, and her character in
every respect more elevated and commanding. Although she had said
much less about our firesides and altars than her husband, I see no
reason to doubt that she had ever been quite as faithful as he could
be to the one, and as much devoted to the other. I shall describe
the important event of her passage from this to a better world, as I
have often had it repeated from the lips of one who was present, and
who has had an important agency in since making me the man I am.
This person was the clergyman of the parish, a pious divine, a
learned man, and a gentleman in feeling as well as by extraction.

My mother, though long conscious that she was drawing near to her
last great account, had steadily refused to draw her husband from
his absorbing pursuits, by permitting him to be made acquainted with
her situation. He knew that she was ill; very ill, as he had reason
to think; but, as he not only allowed her, but even volunteered to
order her all the advice and relief that money could command (my
ancestor was not a miser in the vulgar meaning of the word), he
thought that he had done all that man could do, in a case of life
and death--interests over which he professed to have no control. He
saw Dr. Etherington, the rector, come and go daily, for a month,
without uneasiness or apprehension, for he thought his discourse had
a tendency to tranquillize my mother, and he had a strong affection
for all that left him undisturbed, to the enjoyment of the
occupation in which his whole energies were now completely centred.