The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph

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.