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 now a scene of lamentation, terror and despair.—The heir of Altamonte was dead—the hope so fondly cherished was cut off—the idol, upon whose existence so many hearts were fixed, lay in his gilded cradle and costly attire, affording a lesson impressive although every day repeated, yet unheeded although impressive,—that it is the nature of man to rest his most sanguine expectations upon the most frail and uncertain of all his possessions.

The women who had been employed to attend upon him were weeping around him. His nurse alone appeared utterly insensible to his fate,—her eyes were fixed,—her lips motionless,—she obeyed every command that was given; but, when left to herself, she continued in the same sullen mood. Some called her hard and unfeeling, as in loud accents they bewailed the dire calamity that had fallen on their master's house; but there were others who knew that this apparent