ear
us waved a solemn dirge to the midnight breeze. Idris leaned back in the
carriage; her two hands pressed mine, her countenance was placid, she
seemed to lose the sense of what she now left, in the memory of what she
still possessed.

My thoughts were sad and solemn, yet not of unmingled pain. The very excess
of our misery carried a relief with it, giving sublimity and elevation to
sorrow. I felt that I carried with me those I best loved; I was pleased,
after a long separation to rejoin Adrian; never again to part. I felt that
I quitted what I loved, not what loved me. The castle walls, and long
familiar trees, did not hear the parting sound of our carriage-wheels with
regret. And, while I felt Idris to be near, and heard the regular breathing
of my children, I could not be unhappy. Clara was greatly moved; with
streaming eyes, suppressing her sobs, she leaned from the window, watching
the last glimpse of her native Windsor.

Adrian welcomed us on our arrival. He was all animation; you could no
longer trace in his look of health, the suffering valetudinarian; from his
smile and sprightly tones you could not guess that he was about to lead
forth from their native country, the numbered remnant of the English
nation, into the tenantless realms of the south, there to die, one by one,
till the LAST MAN should remain in a voiceless, empty world.

Adrian was impatient for our departure, and had advanced far in his
preparations. His wisdom guided all. His care was the soul, to move the
luckless crowd, who relied wholly on him. It was useless to provide many
things, for we should find abundant provision in every town. It was
Adrian's wish to prevent all labour; to bestow a festive appearance on this
funeral train. Our numbers amounted to not quite two thousand persons.
These were not all assembled in London, but each day witnessed the arrival
of fresh numbers, and those who resided in the neighbouring towns, had
received orders to assemble at one place, on the twentieth of November.
Carriages and horses were provided for all; captains and under officers
chosen, and the whole assemblage wisely organized. All obeyed the Lord
Protector of dying England; all looked up to him. His council was chosen,
it consisted of about fifty persons. Distinction and station were not the
qualifications of their election. We had no station among us, but that
which benevolence and prudence gave; no distinction save between the living
and the dea