Never, from the soil of New England
had gone up such a shout! Never, on New England soil had stood
the man so honoured by his mortal brethren as the preacher!
How fared it with him, then? Were there not the brilliant
particles of a halo in the air about his head? So etherealised
by spirit as he was, and so apotheosised by worshipping
admirers, did his footsteps, in the procession, really tread
upon the dust of earth?
As the ranks of military men and civil fathers moved onward, all
eyes were turned towards the point where the minister was seen
to approach among them. The shout died into a murmur, as one
portion of the crowd after another obtained a glimpse of him.
How feeble and pale he looked, amid all his triumph! The
energy--or say, rather, the inspiration which had held him up,
until he should have delivered the sacred message that had
brought its own strength along with it from heaven--was
withdrawn, now that it had so faithfully performed its office.
The glow, which they had just before beheld burning on his
cheek, was extinguished, like a flame that sinks down hopelessly
among the late decaying embers.
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