CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



less world! And therein enshrined among all its ho- 

 liest remembrances, shall be the image of Emilius 

 Godfrey, till it too, like his, shall be but dust and 

 ashes ! 



Oh ! blame not boys for so soon forgetting one an- 

 other — in absence or in death. Yet forgetting is not 

 just the very word; call it rather a reconcilement to 

 doom and destiny — in thus obeying a benign law of 

 nature that soon streams sunshine over the shadows 

 of the grave. Not otherwise could all the ongoings 

 of this world be continued. The nascent spirit out- 

 grows much in which it once found all delight; and 

 thoughts delightful still, thoughts of the faces and 

 the voices of the dead, perish not, lying sometimes in 

 slumber — sometimes in sleep. It belongs not to the 

 blessed season and genius of youth, to hug to its 

 heart useless and unavailing griefs. Images of the 

 well-beloved, when they themselves are in the mould, 

 come and go, no unfrequent visitants, through the 

 meditative hush of solitude. But our main business — 

 our prime joys and our prime sorrows — ought to be 

 — must be with the living. Duty demands it; and 

 Love, who would pine to death over the bones of the 

 dead, soon fastens upon other objects with eyes and 

 voices to smile and whisper and answer to all his 

 vows. So was it with us. Ere the midsummer sun had 

 withered the flowers that spring had sprinkled over 

 [ 120 ] 



