'T is spirits chanting on a cloud
That passes by. It dies away;
So gently dies she scarce can say
'T is gone; listens; 't is lost she fears;
Listens, and thinks again she hears.
As dew drops mingling in a stream
To her 't is all one blissful dream,
A song of angels throned in light.
Softly! Away! Fair one, good-night.

In the autumn of 1871 Morse returned with his family to New York, and it
is recorded that, with an apparent premonition that he should never see
his beloved Locust Grove again, he ordered the carriage to stop as he
drove out of the gate, and, standing up, looked long and lovingly at the
familiar scene before telling the coachman to drive on. And as he passed
the rural cemetery on the way to the station he exclaimed: "Beautiful!
beautiful! but I shall not lie there. I have prepared a place elsewhere."

Not long after his return to the city death once more laid its heavy hand
upon him in the loss of his sole surviving brother, Sidney. While this
was a crushing blow, for these two brothers had been peculiarly attached
to each other, he bore it with Christian resignation, confident that the
separation would be for a short time only--"We must soon follow, I also
am over eighty years, and am waiting till my change comes."

But his mind was active to the very end, and he never ceased to do all in
his power for the welfare of mankind. One of the last letters written by
him on a subject of public importance was sent on December 4, 1871, to
Cyrus Field, who was then attending an important telegraphic convention
in Rome:--

"Excuse my delay in writing you. The excitement occasioned by the visit
of the Grand Duke Alexis has but just ceased, and I have been wholly
engrossed by the various duties connected with his presence. I have
wished for a few calm moments to put on paper some thoughts respecting
the doings of the great Telegraphic Convention to which you are a
delegate.

"The Telegraph has now assumed such a marvellous position in human
affairs throughout the world, its influences are so great and important
in all the varied concerns of nations, that its efficient protection from
injury has become a necessity. It is a powerful advocate for universal
peace. Not that of itself it can command a 'Peace, be still!' to the
angry waves of human passions, but that, by its rapid interchange of
thought and opinion, it gives the opportunity of explanations to acts and
to laws which, in their ordinary wording, often