wonder, that we were praying. All the time the voice, with a low arrested
sobbing, lay just where he was standing, as I thought.

"Lord," the minister said,--"Lord, take him into Thy everlasting
habitations. The mother he cries to is with Thee. Who can open to him but
Thee? Lord, when is it too late for Thee, or what is too hard for Thee?
Lord, let that woman there draw him inower! Let her draw him inower!"

I sprang forward to catch something in my arms that flung itself wildly
within the door. The illusion was so strong, that I never paused till I
felt my forehead graze against the wall and my hands clutch the
ground,--for there was nobody there to save from falling, as in my
foolishness I thought. Simson held out his hand to me to help me up. He
was trembling and cold, his lower lip hanging, his speech almost
inarticulate. "It's gone," he said, stammering,--"it's gone!" We leaned
upon each other for a moment, trembling so much, both of us, that the
whole scene trembled as if it were going to dissolve and disappear; and
yet as long as I live I will never forget it,--the shining of the
strange lights, the blackness all round, the kneeling figure with all
the whiteness of the light concentrated on its white venerable head and
uplifted hands. A strange solemn stillness seemed to close all round us.
By intervals a single syllable, "Lord! Lord!" came from the old
minister's lips. He saw none of us, nor thought of us. I never knew how
long we stood, like sentinels guarding him at his prayers, holding our
lights in a confused dazed way, not knowing what we did. But at last he
rose from his knees, and standing up at his full height, raised his
arms, as the Scotch manner is at the end of a religious service, and
solemnly gave the apostolical benediction,--to what? to the silent
earth, the dark woods, the wide breathing atmosphere; for we were but
spectators gasping an Amen!