mise me,
George, that if I shed die, you wouldn't have that man to preach over
me,' meanin' the minister, though he was kindly to him; 'and he means
well,' says he; 'but he don't understand us; he knows naught about us
'ceptin' that now we're dead, and not bein' used to them long texts o'
hisn, it frets our folks,' says he. 'They weary on't, so long a string
they bar'ly understand; but I would rather,' Luther says, 'have some one
amongst my folks that knowed me well, git up and speak, ef it was only:
_This was my friend lies here; I loved him_. And promise me, George, ef I
shed die, you'd hev no stranger preachin' over me, but speak some such
easy words yourself for love o' me.' And I felt with him thar', and
promised him, and he me; but I remember thinkin', as I looked at him,
it's little likely I'll ever stand above your grave.

"Enough said. 'This was our friend lies here. We loved him.' We thank him
for them words. Better nor more, they cl'ar it all up on this side twixt
him and us. No need ter tell o' what he was, or what he done. 'Tain't
likely we'll forgit. He didn't say ter praise him. He wanted none o'
that, but jest we knowed and loved him.

"And so it might 'a' been enough, but now, my God! my God! as I stand
here aside o' him, he bids me, plain as day, to speak a word beyent; ef I
could only name it, ef I could only name it, what looks so cl'ar and
beautiful thar' on his face.

"'Hold strong;' he says, 'below thar'. Keep heart and make cl'ar
reckonin', for it's losin' all may be, in this 'ere mystery, makes
cl'arest gain o' all. There's fairer day to rest ye arter storm. All's
well! all's well!' he says; 'all's well beyent. All's well along this
shore!'"

Here George Olver's husky voice failed him; sobs rose in the room.

Then the "farewell" was sung, and bravely; but at the last, I heard only
Madeline's voice, it grew so surpassingly clear and sweet; it seemed to
float solitary in the room, and to play triumphantly about the sleeper's
lips--the voice, indeed, of a free spirit in its bliss, thrilled only
with some plaintive memory of human woe and loss.

* * * * *

Farewell, ye dreams of night;
Jesus is mine!
Lost in this dawning bright;
Jesus is mine!

All that my soul has tried,
Left but a dismal void;
Jesus has satisfied.
Jesus is mine!

Farewell, mortality!
Jesus is mine!
Welcome, eternity!