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in the world；
〃In life's morning march when his bosom was young；〃
and when infinitely less would have sated him。 Now death has come to
join its vague conjectures to the broken expectations of life； and that
blithe spirit is elsewhere。 But nothing can take from him who remains
the witchery of that most winning presence。 Still it looks smiling from
the platform of the car； and casts a farewell of mock heartbreak from it。
Still a gay laugh comes across the abysm of the years that are now
numbered； and out of somewhere the hearer's sense is rapt with the mellow
cordial of a voice that was like no other。
End o