this worthy priest has found words actually to plead for, to excuse, and pardon them!"
"Heaven has sent us a lovely night, Joe; it may be his last night, perhaps. He will suffer but little longer, and he will pass away in a peaceful sleep."
The dying man pronounced some disjointed words; the doctor went to him. The invalid's breathing had become labored; he asked for air. The curtains were drawn aside and he respired with delight the pure air of the calm, clear night. The stars sent down to him their trembling light, while the moon wrapped him in the pure refulgence of her beams. "My friends," said he, in a feeble voice, "I am going! May God reward you and bring you safely home, and pay my debt of gratitude."
"Do not relinquish hope," said Kennedy; "it is only a temporary weakness. You will not die. How could anyone die this lovely summer night?"
"Death is here, I know it!" said the missionary. "Let me look it in the face. Death, the commencement of joys eternal, is only the end of earthly cares. Place me upon my knees, my friends, I beg of you."
Kennedy raised him up, and was shocked to see his helpless limbs give way beneath him.
"My God! my God!" exclaimed the dying apostle. "Have mercy upon me!" His face lighted up. Far away from that earth where he had never known happiness; in the midst of that night which wrapped him in its sweetest rays of light; on the road to that heaven towards which he raised himself in a miraculous assumption, he appeared to be entering upon another life.
His last gesture was to bless his friends of a day; and he fell back in the arms of Kennedy, whose face was bathed in tears.
"Dead!" said the doctor, bending over him. "Alas! dead!" And with one accord the three men fell upon their knees.
"To-morrow," said Ferguson, at length, "We will bury him in this soil of Africa, which he has sprinkled with his blood."
During the remainder of the night the body was watched in turn by the doctor, Kennedy, and Joe, and not a single word broke the holy silence of the time.
