CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



frequent was the haze in our eyes; and in our blind- 

 ness, we knew not that such tears ought to have been 

 far more rueful still, for that he then lay under orders 

 for a longer and more lamentable voyage — a voyage 

 over a narrow streight to the Eternal shore. All — 

 all at once he drooped; on one fatal morning the 

 dread decay began — with no forewarning, the springs 

 on which his being had so lightly — so proudly — so 

 grandly moved — gave way. Between one Sabbath and 

 another his bright eyes darkened — and while all the 

 people were assembled at the sacrament, the soul of 

 Emilius Godfrey soared up to Heaven. It was indeed 

 a dreadful death, serene and sainted though it were 

 — and not a hall — not a house — not a hut — not a 

 shieling within all the circle of those wide mountains, 

 that did not on jthat night mourn as if it had lost a 

 son. All the vast parish attended his funeral — Low- 

 landers and Highlanders in their own garb of grief. 

 And have time and tempest now blackened the white 

 marble of that monument — is that inscription now 

 hard to be read— the name of Emilius Godfrey in 

 green obliteration — nor haply one surviving who ever 

 saw the light of the countenance of him there in- 

 terred! Forgotten as if he had never been! for few 

 were that glorious orphan's kindred — and they lived 

 in a foreign land — forgotten but by one heart, faith- 

 ful through all the chances and changes of this rest- 

 [119] 



