CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



with all the passionate devotion of young and un- 

 tamed imagination, to enjoy, during a bright dreamy 

 world of which that friendship is as the Polar star. 

 Emilius Godfrey! for ever holy be the name! a boy 

 when we were but a child — when we were but a youth, 

 a man. We felt stronger in the shadow of his arm 

 — happier, bolder, better in the light of his counte- 

 nance. He was the protector — the guardian of our 

 moral being. In our pastimes we bounded with wilder 

 glee — at our studies we sat with in tenser earnestness, 

 by his side. He it was that taught us how to feel all 

 those glorious sunsets, and imbued our young spirit 

 with the love and worship of nature. He it was that 

 taught us to feel that our evening prayer was no 

 idle ceremony to be hastily gone through — that we 

 might lay down our head on the pillow, then soon 

 smoothed in sleep, but a command of God, which a 

 response from nature summoned the humble heart to 

 obey. He it was who for ever had at command wit 

 for the sportive, wisdom for the serious hour. Fun 

 and frolic flowed in the merry music of his lips — 

 they lightened from the gay glancing of his eyes — 

 and then, all at once, when the one changed its 

 measures, and the other gathered, as it were, a mist 

 or a cloud, an answering sympathy chained our own 

 tongue, and darkened our own countenance, in inter- 

 communion of spirit felt to be indeed divine! It 

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