The Close of the Day 



how much it tore at her heartstrings, she would herself lead 

 the way on the morrow in that solemn rite when the last 

 offices would be carried out for her beloved dead. 



After the sad interview, my nephew Jack asked me to go 

 with him to the death chamber. Here there was no grimness ; 

 the coffin itself, of bright polished elm, stood under a red 

 shaded lamp which cast a cheerful glow over everything, 

 whilst the floral tributes formed in wreaths, horseshoes, 

 shields, etc., placed all round the room, had transformed it 

 into a veritable bower of sweetness and beauty. 



They had laid him in the smoking room, on the walls 

 of which all his favourite pictures of horses, etc., were hung, 

 his hunting horns on the chimney-piece. 



A more fitting setting for his last resting-place in the home 

 he loved could not have been chosen. 



The two lovely wreaths from his wife and son respectively 

 were the only ones on the coffin, and as I put my hand on the 

 beautiful casket, that contained the earthly part of my dear 

 brother, Jack told me that when he brought the coffin down 

 from London, and before it was lifted off the hearse, one of 

 Maunsell's servants, Willingham, who had lived in his service 

 since a boy, had rushed out, stroking it tenderly, as if in so 

 doing he had been brought once more in touch with his well- 

 loved master. 



Until then, I had not realized how expressive the language 

 of flowers is at a funeral, or how these sweet products of 

 the earth could so remind us that the most beautiful things 

 of the world are necessarily the most perishable — I did then to 

 the full. 



The day of the funeral broke with solemn stillness, not 

 a leaf stirred on the fine old trees that stood like sentinels 

 on either side of the entrance to the hall. As I drew up my 



171 



