About twelve o'clock
On the morning of the day on which he died , although not suffering much from pain , he seemed to feel an impression that his end was at hand . It is due to him to say here , that he had for months before his death been deeply and sincerely penitent , and that he was not only sensible of the vanity and errors which had occasioned his fall from integrity , and cut him off in the prime of life , but also felt his heart sustained by the divine consolations of religion . Father Costello was earnest and unremitting in his spiritual attentions to him , and certainly had the gratification of knowing that he felt death to be in his case not merely a release from all his cares and sorrows , but a passport into that life where the weary are at rest . About twelve o'clock in the forenoon he asked to see his wife -- his own Margaret -- and his children , but , above all , his blessed Atty -- for such was the epithet he had ever annexed to his name since the night of the melancholy accident . In a few minutes the sorrowful group appeared , his mother leading the unconscious boy by the hand , for he knew not where he was . Art lay , or rather reclined , on the bed , supported by two bolsters ; his visage was pale , but the general expression of his face was calm , mild , and sorrowful ; although his words were distinct , his voice was low and feeble , and every now and then impeded by a short catch -- for to cough he was literally unable . `` Margaret , '' said he , `` come to me , come to me now , '' and he feebly received her hand in his ; `` I feel that afther all the warfare of this poor life , afther all our love and our sorrow , I am goin ' to part wid you and our childhre at last . ''