boy who, having been carefully educated, was a
bright and intelligent lad. I now took him under my special care and
made it my constant endeavour to impart to him such of my own knowledge
as seemed likely to be useful or interesting, hoping to keep him with me
for many years as a companion. He soon became imbued with my love of
mechanical pursuits and also with my passion for astronomy and allied
sciences, developing an interest in Mars equal to if not surpassing my
own.

His most intimate schoolfellow was John Claxton, and, as there was a
very strong friendship between them, we were so much together that I
came to regard him almost as a second son.

When my boy was in his twentieth year I noticed that a great change came
over him, for instead of being cheerful and high-spirited he became very
quiet and self-absorbed, and there was often a faraway look in his eyes
which puzzled me very much. One morning I went to call him at his usual
time for rising and found him in a deep sleep from which I was unable to
rouse him. After trying some time without effect his stupor so alarmed
me that I immediately sent off for a doctor, who advised that it would
be best to let him lie and he would probably awaken naturally in a few
hours' time. This indeed proved to be the case; and, as soon as he
awoke, the doctor carefully examined him, but could find nothing wrong
to account for what had happened. A month later he had a similar
seizure, with the same result, but this time his sleep lasted nearly
thirty hours. On the doctor's advice I then took him to the seaside for
several weeks' stay, and there he soon regained his usual buoyancy of
spirits.

Shortly after our return home, however, he had a third seizure from
which he never awoke, but, to my profound sorrow, passed quietly away.
Just before the end came I noticed his lips move slightly as though he
were trying to speak, and on bending down to listen I thought I caught
faintly what sounded like the words, "I am coming," but whether this
really were so I could not be sure.

I will not dwell upon the pain and sorrow of that dark and dreary
portion of my life when I was left quite alone, without a single
relative to cheer me, but merely say that my grief at his loss was so
overwhelming that it was long before my former mode of living could be
resumed. John Claxton was almost as deeply affected as myself, for poor
Mark was a most affectionate lad, and had greatly endeared himself to