'"
Speaking of his father, one day, suddenly and without introduction, he
exclaimed,--"There is one thing I deeply regret, that I did not know my
dear father better; for I am sure a better, kinder, or juster man could
never have existed."
When death seemed approaching, the physician recommended that a telegram
should be sent to the eldest daughter,[A] who resided in Ireland, but he
forbade any mention of this fact to the patient. De Quincey seemed to
have a prophetic feeling that she was on her way to him, saying, "Has M.
got to that town yet, that we stopped at when we went to Ireland? How
many hours will it be before she can be here? Let me see,--there are
eight hours before I can see her, and three added to that!" His daughter
came sooner than the family expected; but the time tallied very nearly
with the computation he had made. On the morning his daughter arrived
occurred the first intimation his family had seen that the hand of death
was laid upon him. He had passed a quiet, but rather sleepless night,
appearing "much the same, yet more than ordinarily loving.
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