arers in the benefit of his
decision.

"And as it was with him, so in a lesser way it was with those others who
sleep here close beside him.

"'Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.'"

In the pause which followed a low breath of reverent surprise ran
through the crowd that stood about the speaker. They had lived day by
day with Hamilton Burton until his death, and none of them had, in the
shoulder-touch of life, ever suspected those deeper things of which now
for the first time they heard. They were hearing it all from lips which
were to them as the lips of a prophet. But the preacher was not through.

"And there was Paul. You all knew him and loved him. A nature was given
him at birth almost too delicate for a world of hard affairs, but
fragrant with a tenderness of love for his fellow-men. He was attuned to
harmony and his heart was that of a troubadour.

"Here in this little place of our worship, his fingers on the keys have
often led us nearer to God's presence than could the poor and broken
messages I tried to preach to you. For the other world was always close
to Paul Burton and there was a magic in his minstrelsy, which was a
gift from God. I sometimes wonder if in a less simple world he could
have been so happy or if his life would have been so unmarred, away from
the songs of birds and the lilt of mountain breezes. But among us he,
too, lived and died--because Hamilton Burton turned his back on the lure
of the mirage his dreaming eyes had seen. Even now when Paul has gone,
those chimes, which you put there above our church in memory of him,
seem to sing of the things for which he stood. When their notes peal out
on the Sabbath and go softly across the valley, I like to imagine that,
through the nobler music which immortal ears may hear, he still catches
their echo.

"There, close together, stand two more headstones, and beneath them
sleep the father and the aunt of these men. Thomas Burton, too, lived
out a life of stalwart worth. To all men, his fearless character and
unshakable integrity were precepts. He went his way and looked into
every eye that me