These men were
the next of kin, and we were justly proud of the connection and tried
to uphold our side of the family honor as well as it was possible for
us of this generation to accomplish. The days were counted and each
evening we were happy in the recital of our part that was expected of
us when father returned. Only a short time remained to us who were
awaiting his coming. At last we were rewarded by the arrival of the
ship which was expected to bring our father, and the week had nearly
passed. On the fourth day a messenger from the ship came with a letter
from the captain that George L. Blake was dead and buried, in a
foreign land, with honors suitable to the man who had won for himself
the respect of all who knew him in the city of Melbourne. The railroad
offices were closed, the American flag at half mast, and men with
uncovered heads marched behind the hearse that bore the remains of
their distinguished member, the American gentleman from California, to
his last resting place. Our sorrow was too great to be realized, even
after reading the letter from the rector who had read the funeral
service over the dead, and who explained the circumstances of his
sudden death and told of the sorrow of his comrades and the officers
of the company who so honored him in a strange land. He had in a short
time won their esteem by his courteous and gentlemanly bearing towards
all who came in contact with him.
This was the sad message and the end of our bright hopes for the
future.
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