THE CONCLUSION
He had hinted that he should like to be buried in a certain spot
near the grave of his mother. This is a weakness; but it is
universally incident to humanity: 'tis at least a memorial for
those who survive: for some indeed a slender memorial will serve;--
and the soft affections, when they are busy that way, will build
their structures, were it but on the paring of a nail.
He was buried in the place he had desired. It was shaded by an old
tree, the only one in the church-yard, in which was a cavity worn by
time. I have sat with him in it, and counted the tombs. The last
time we passed there, methought he looked wistfully on the tree:
there was a branch of it that bent towards us waving in the wind; he
waved his hand as if he mimicked its motion. There was something
predictive in his look! perhaps it is foolish to remark it; but
there are times and places when I am a child at those things.
I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the hollow of the tree. It is
worth a thousand homilies; every noble feeling rises within me!
every beat of my heart awakens a virtue!--but it will make you hate
the world--No: there is such an air of gentleness around, that I
can hate nothing; but, as to the world--I pity the men of it.
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