CHAPTER XIV
I see no more those white locks thinly spread
Round the bald polish of that honored head:
No more that meek, that suppliant look in prayer,
Nor that pure faith that gave it force, are there:
But he is blest, and I lament no more,
A wise good man, contented to be poor.
--CRABBE.
We have already said that the customs of America leave the dead but a
short time in sight of the mourners; and the necessity of providing for
his own safety had compelled the peddler to abridge even this brief
space. In the confusion and agitation produced by the events we have
recorded, the death of the elder Birch had occurred unnoticed; but a
sufficient number of the immediate neighbors were hastily collected, and
the ordinary rites of sepulture were now about to be paid to the
deceased. It was the approach of this humble procession that arrested
the movements of the trooper and his comrade. Four men supported the
body on a rude bier; and four others walked in advance, ready to
relieve their friends from their burden. The peddler walked next the
coffin, and by his side moved Katy Haynes, with a most determined aspect
of woe, and next to the mourners came Mr. Wharton and the English
captain.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277