to
some figure sitting in the silent library. The sitter arose and walked
out quietly, and went with the beckoner and looked in at the lid, and saw
what had once been a boy with soft eyes and tender heart. Coming back to
the library the smell of varnish was for a moment blown out of the wide
entry by the breath of the clover that wandered in, and reminded the
silent company of the song and the sunshine and bloom that were outside.

At length every thing was waiting. No more carriages came--no more
people. There was no more looking into the casket--no more whispering
and moving. The rooms were full of a silent company, and they were all
waiting. The clock ticked audibly. The wind rustled in the pine-trees.
What next? Would not the master of the house appear to welcome
his guests?

He did not come; but from the upper entry, at the head of the stairs,
near a room in which sat Hope Wayne, and Lawrence Newt, and Mrs. Simcoe,
and Fanny Dinks, and Alfred, and his parents, and a few others, was heard
the voice of Dr. Peewee, saying, "Let us pray!"

And he prayed a long prayer. He spoke of the good works of this life, and
the sweet promises of the next; of the Christian hero, who fights the
good fight encompassed by a crowd of witnesses; of those who do justice
and love mercy, and walk in the way of the Lord. He referred to our dear
departed brother, and eulogized Christian merchants, calling those
blessed who, being rich, are almoners of the Lord's bounty. He prayed for
those who remained, reminding them, that the Lord chastens whom he loves,
and that they who die, although full of years and honors, do yet go where
the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, and at last
pass beyond to enter into the joy of their Lord.

His voice ceased, and silence fell again upon the house. Every body sat
quietly; the women fanned themselves, and the men looked about. Here was
again the sense of waiting--of vague expectation. What next?

Three or four workmen went into the parlor. One of them put down the lid
and screwed it tight. The casket was closed forever. They lifted it, and
carried it out carefully down the steps. They rolled it into a hearse
that stood upon the gravel, and the man who closed the lid buttoned a
black curtain over the casket.

The same man went to the front door and read several names from a paper
in a clear, dry voice. The people designated came down stairs, went out
of the door, and stepped into c