252 ^VE.sTWI^sx£R abbly. 



follow, save those who remain to fill up the grave. Their duty is soon 

 accomplished, and they too depart. Now all. have gone. All .'' no, not 

 all ! A poor orphan lad, who had been saved from death, and, reared by 

 that kind old man whose burial we have witnessed, remains. Seated 

 upon a stone, he had watched with unuttered anguish, the filling of the 

 grave. He had heard the sound of the spade, smoothing over the top, 

 and, when all had departed, he llirew himself upon the mound andmourned 

 in the bitterness of his soul, that he should no longer have one to love 

 him as his poor old father had done. But who mourns at the tomb 

 of the King ? Do the scalding tears of grief fall upon his tombstone ? 

 Alas, no ! We stand and gaze upon the splendid monument, the varied 

 tracery, and rich hangings, and can almost fancy a hand writing above, 

 in letters of lire, "Vanity of vanities !" * * * * 



Again, from afar comes noise and tumult. Again the bells chime, 

 but the death-knell has changed to the merry peal. Again the cannons 

 roar, but the minute gun is succeeded by quick successive discharges. 

 And then is borne along upon the breeze, faintly at first, but growing 

 stronger, the cry, "God save the King!'' A nation has found her Osiris, 

 and the mourning for the lost is changed into rejoicings for the found. 

 Again the gates are thrown wide open, and again the crowd of the great 

 ones of the earth fill the Abbey, which, as if in sympathy with the oc- 

 casion, lays ofl' its "cathedral look," and hides its sombre walls beneath 

 the folds of smiling tapestry. 



What a contrast! There rises the monument of a King yet moist 

 with a nation's tears, there stands the coronation chair in which his suc- 

 cessor is receiving on his fevered brow the diadem, that once encircled 

 his brow, now cold in death. * * * * * 



And now, leaving the Past and the Pre?ent, we are borne irresistibly 

 on to the Future. Its dark mysterious depths cannot conceal from us, 

 that those who shall hereafter move upon the stage of existence, will 

 tread ligluly over the spot, consecrated by the relics of power, wisdom 

 and genius. In fancy we can see the verger, many years hence, point- 

 ing the visitor's eye to the names of those, of whom he has learned that 

 they were great and good men, who lived long, long ago. And how 

 the stranger's eye kindles, when the names of Chaucer, Milton, Shakes- 

 peare, Diyden, Goldsmitli, Addison fall upon his ear; and how he feels 

 a sacred awe stealing over him, when he realizes that he is indeed stand- 

 ing over tlie dust of men so great, so good ! 



But who cannot look forward to' the time, when even their names 

 may cease to be mentioned, or will only meet the eye of the antiquary, 

 on the pages of old dusty folioii .' The tooth of Time may gnaw away 



