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378
The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph
·
Henry M. Field
369
It
was
a
beautiful
morning,
and
the
windows
were
open,
through
which
the
soft
summer
air
floated
into
the
chamber
of
death,
where
his
three
brothers,
all
that
were
left
of
his
father's
family,
with
those
of
his
own
household,
were
round
his
bed,
watching
the
dear
pale
face.
Thus
surrounded
and
beloved
to
the
last,
he
ceased
to
breathe.
Two
days
later
a
large
company
from
the
country
round
and
from
the
city
gathered
at
Ardsley,
and
stood
on
the
lawn
and
the
slopes
that
lead
up
to
the
noble
trees
that
shade
the
dwelling,
as
Bishop
Potter
read
the
blessed
words,
"I
am
the
Resurrection
and
the
Life,
saith
the
Lord:
he
that
believeth
in
Me,
though
he
were
dead,
yet
shall
he
live."
The
next
day
we
bore
him
away
from
his
home,
and
from
the
great
city
where
he
had
passed
his
busy
life,
back
to
the
quiet
valley
where
he
was
born,
and
laid
him
down
in
the
shadow
of
the
encircling
hills.[A]
"Bury
me
there,"
he
had
said,
"by
the
side
of
my
beloved
wife
and
by
my
father
and
mother."
The
earth
closed
over
him,
and
all
his
struggles
and
his
sorrows
were
buried
in
the
grave.
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