“And has he not high
The hill side for a pall,
He lies in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall;
And the dark rock pines, with tossing plumes,
Over his tomb to wave;
’Twas a kind dear hand in that lonely land,
That laid him in the grave.”
“In that lonely grave
without a name,
Where his uncoffined clay
Shall break again, O, wondrous thought!
Before the Judgment Day,
And stand with glory wrapped around
On the hills he never trod,
And speak of the strife that won our life,
And the Incarnate Son of God.”
MARGARET GODFREY’S FAREWELL.
The widowed squaw and the two pale-faced women were the last to leave Paul’s late camping ground. As they were pushed off into the stream by Jim Newall, who with another Indian paddled them back to the settlement, Margaret saw the other canoes, nine in number, going up the river. In the twilight she watched them, and it came to her mind that when Paul Guidon saw the porpoises at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy coming toward the sloop, he was not to be blamed for thinking they were canoes. She remarked to Mrs. Fowler those canoes resemble, at first sight, porpoises on the Atlantic Ocean.
When they arrived at the settlement Little Mag was taken to the home of the Lesters. As she sat down in one of the small, unfurnished rooms, she rested her head upon her hands and bitterly sobbed. Mrs. Godfrey tried to comfort her, but she wept on. Little Mag said she felt badly at leaving the wigwam. If she had stayed there her husband’s spirit would have come in the night and been with her. She would not see him but she would know he was there. Indians always come back the night they are buried to see their loved ones again before going off to the great hunting grounds. After a time “Little Mag” fell asleep, and in her dream, as she reclined on a bench, talked in an unknown tongue. Neither Margaret nor any present could understand a word she uttered. She appeared to be conversing with some invisible being, invisible, at least, to the pale faces. It may have been that in that little room there was sweet communion between the widowed squaw and her departed husband. She said to Mrs Godfrey after she awoke that she thought she saw her husband and heard him say, “Don’t worry about Paul.” “Happy hunting grounds here.” “See you far off.” “Far beyond setting sun.” He appeared to be speaking to her out of the setting sun. He was surrounded by a golden light, while he looked to be dressed in polished silver, and when she awoke by falling on the floor, she had started to fling herself into his arms, which were outstretched to receive her; but when her eyes were opened all around her was darkness.
[Footnote 7: See interpretation of the dream at close of Chapter.]