Was it not Addison, the great English writer, who, when on his deathbed, sent for the wicked young earl of Warwick to let him see how a christian can meet his end? He it is and he alone, the pious and believing christian, who can say in his heart: O grave, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting? Every word of it was for him. Against his sin, foul and secret, the whole wrath of God was aimed. "There are not many of your own sort, Miles!" I laughed. He did not know where to seek it or how, but a premonition which led him on told him that this image would, without any overt act of his, encounter him.