I am dying, Egypt, dying;
Hark! the insulting foeman's cry,
They are coming! quick, my falchion!
Let me front them ere I die.
Ah! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell--
Isis and Osiris guard thee!
Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!
He was engaged to Miss Sarah Doremus, a sister of Professor Doremus of
New York. After the terrible shock of his sudden death she never
married, but devoted her life to carrying out her sainted mother's
missionary projects, once taking a trip alone around the world to
visit the missionary stations started by her mother.
As soon as I had arrived at Mr. Bartholomew's, Mrs. Broadwell gave me
a dinner. Six unmarried ladies and seven well-known bachelors were the
guests, as she wished to give me just what I needed, an endorsement
among her own friends. The result was instant and potent.
Everyone at that dinner did something afterwards to entertain me. I
was often invited to the opera, always had a box (long-stemmed roses
for all the ladies), also to dinner and lunches. If anyone in the city
had anything in the way of a rare collection, from old engravings to
rare old books, an evening was devoted to showing the collection to me
with other friends.
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