A Journey in Other Worlds [115]
at the latter day upon the earth." As
the bier advanced, Bearwarden and Ayrault recognized themselves
among the pallbearers--the former with grey mustache and hair,
the latter considerably aged. The hermetically sealed lead
coffin was inclosed in a wooden case, and the whole was draped
and covered with flowers.
"Oh, my faith!" cried Cortlandt, "I see my face within, yet it is
but a decomposing mass that I once described as I."
Then again did the minister's voice proclaim, "I am the
resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth
and believeth in me shall never die."
The bearers gently set down their burden; the minister read the
ever-impressive chapter of St. Paul to the Corinthians; a bishop
solemnly and silently sprinkled earth on the coffin; and the
choir sang the 398th hymn, beginning with the words, "Hark, hark
my soul! angelic songs are swelling," which had always been
Cortlandt's favourite and the service was at an end. The bearers
again shouldered all that was left of Henry Cortlandt, and his
relatives accompanied this to the cemetery.
Then came a sweeping change of scene. A host of monuments and
gravestones reflected the sunlight, while a broad river ebbed and
flowed between high banks. A sexton and a watchman stood by a
granite vault, the heavy door of which they had opened with a
large key. Hard by were some gardeners and labourers, and also a
crowd of curiosity-seekers who had come to witness the last sad
rites. Presently a funeral procession appeared. The hearse
stopped near the open vault, over the door of which stood out the
name of CORTLANDT, and the accompanying minister said a short
prayer, while all present uncovered their heads. After this the
coffin was borne within and set at rest upon a slab, among many
generations of Cortlandts. In the hearts of the relatives and
friends was genuine sorrow, but the curiosity-seekers went their
way and gave little thought. "To-morrow will be like to-day,"
they said, "and more great men will die."
Then came another change of scene, though it was comparatively
slight. The sun slowly sank beyond the farther bank of the broad
river, and the moon and stars shone softly on the gravestones and
crosses. Two gardeners smoked their short clay pipes on a bench
before the Cortlandt vault, and talked in a slow manner.
"He was a great man," said one, "and if his soul blooms like the
flowers on his grave, he must be in paradise, which we know is a
finer park than this."
"He was expert for the Government when the earth's axis was set
right," said the second gardener, "and he must have been a
scholar, for his calculations have all come true. He was one of
the first three men to visit the other planets, while the
obituaries in the papers say his history will be read hereafter
like the books of Caesar. After burying all these great people,
I sometimes wish I could do the same for myself, for the people I
bury seem to be remembered." After this they relapsed into their
meditations, the silence being broken only by an occasional
murmur from the river's steady flow.
Hereupon the voyagers found they were once more in the cave. The
fire had burned low, and the dawn was already in the east.
Cortlandt wiped his forehead, shivered, and looked extremely
pale.
"Thank Heaven," he cried, "we cannot ordinarily foresee our end;
for but few would attain their predestined ending could they see
it in advance. May the veil not again be raised, lest I faint
before it! I looked in vain for my soul," he continued, "but
could see it nowhere."
"The souls of those dying young," replied the spirit, "sometimes
wish to hover near their ashes as if regretting an unfinished
life, or the opportunities that have departed; but those dying
after middle age are usually glad to be free from their bodies,
and seldom think of them again."
"I shall append the lines now in my head to my history," said
the bier advanced, Bearwarden and Ayrault recognized themselves
among the pallbearers--the former with grey mustache and hair,
the latter considerably aged. The hermetically sealed lead
coffin was inclosed in a wooden case, and the whole was draped
and covered with flowers.
"Oh, my faith!" cried Cortlandt, "I see my face within, yet it is
but a decomposing mass that I once described as I."
Then again did the minister's voice proclaim, "I am the
resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth
and believeth in me shall never die."
The bearers gently set down their burden; the minister read the
ever-impressive chapter of St. Paul to the Corinthians; a bishop
solemnly and silently sprinkled earth on the coffin; and the
choir sang the 398th hymn, beginning with the words, "Hark, hark
my soul! angelic songs are swelling," which had always been
Cortlandt's favourite and the service was at an end. The bearers
again shouldered all that was left of Henry Cortlandt, and his
relatives accompanied this to the cemetery.
Then came a sweeping change of scene. A host of monuments and
gravestones reflected the sunlight, while a broad river ebbed and
flowed between high banks. A sexton and a watchman stood by a
granite vault, the heavy door of which they had opened with a
large key. Hard by were some gardeners and labourers, and also a
crowd of curiosity-seekers who had come to witness the last sad
rites. Presently a funeral procession appeared. The hearse
stopped near the open vault, over the door of which stood out the
name of CORTLANDT, and the accompanying minister said a short
prayer, while all present uncovered their heads. After this the
coffin was borne within and set at rest upon a slab, among many
generations of Cortlandts. In the hearts of the relatives and
friends was genuine sorrow, but the curiosity-seekers went their
way and gave little thought. "To-morrow will be like to-day,"
they said, "and more great men will die."
Then came another change of scene, though it was comparatively
slight. The sun slowly sank beyond the farther bank of the broad
river, and the moon and stars shone softly on the gravestones and
crosses. Two gardeners smoked their short clay pipes on a bench
before the Cortlandt vault, and talked in a slow manner.
"He was a great man," said one, "and if his soul blooms like the
flowers on his grave, he must be in paradise, which we know is a
finer park than this."
"He was expert for the Government when the earth's axis was set
right," said the second gardener, "and he must have been a
scholar, for his calculations have all come true. He was one of
the first three men to visit the other planets, while the
obituaries in the papers say his history will be read hereafter
like the books of Caesar. After burying all these great people,
I sometimes wish I could do the same for myself, for the people I
bury seem to be remembered." After this they relapsed into their
meditations, the silence being broken only by an occasional
murmur from the river's steady flow.
Hereupon the voyagers found they were once more in the cave. The
fire had burned low, and the dawn was already in the east.
Cortlandt wiped his forehead, shivered, and looked extremely
pale.
"Thank Heaven," he cried, "we cannot ordinarily foresee our end;
for but few would attain their predestined ending could they see
it in advance. May the veil not again be raised, lest I faint
before it! I looked in vain for my soul," he continued, "but
could see it nowhere."
"The souls of those dying young," replied the spirit, "sometimes
wish to hover near their ashes as if regretting an unfinished
life, or the opportunities that have departed; but those dying
after middle age are usually glad to be free from their bodies,
and seldom think of them again."
"I shall append the lines now in my head to my history," said