None named thee but to praise!”
I portrayed his life, the nobility of his manhood, his devotion to purity and truth, and then I told for the first time what he had done for us in erecting our beautiful structure, and ornamenting our grounds, and his heartfelt interest in the welfare of every one. In closing the lessons of his life to us, I urged all, especially the younger men and boys, by all the powers of their being, to imitate him, and make themselves pure and noble.
His life, his purity, his kindness, and his beautiful death, made such an impression upon every one, as never to be effaced, and he knows now in part, and will know all in the great hereafter, the good he accomplished, and his heaven and our heaven will have a brighter glory for his having lived. In closing, I pointed to one of the mottoes as most appropriate to him, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
We erected a beautiful marble monument over his grave to be a perpetual remembrance, and a daily lesson to all, of his life and character.
Mr. Jasper, as might have been expected, left all his books and many mementoes to “Our Club,” besides quite a sum in government bonds for the annual increase of the library, so his good deeds did not die with him.
Somehow, after this, the ties connecting me with India, seemed to have been sundered. One thing that greatly added to this, was the destiny of our children. I lived in perpetual dread, that if they remained in the country, they might be humiliated, if not cursed, with the sneering epithet: “The children of that Eurasian.” I was determined, if there was a place on God’s earth, where they might escape this, I would try to find it. This may seem to some a trivial matter, yet I could not help feeling intensely about it, for I am very human after all. I have suffered, only God knows how much agony, and how often, from being taunted with that accursed name, more especially when it was uttered by Christian gentlemen and ladies, from whom I might have expected better things, so it ought not to appear strange to any one if I should wish to save my own dear, innocent children from the degrading stigma of their father’s birth.
It was decided that my wife, with the children, should make their residence in southern France, where the mild climate was best suited to them, on leaving the heat of India, and where she could superintend their education, thus realizing in some degree the day dream of my youth, inspired by the reading of a most delightful book, and which I have given at the commencement of this sketch of my life.
After their departure, I sold all my property, except two villages, which I placed in the hands of trustees, for the benefit of “Our Club,” having first drawn up rules of control, so that the villagers should never be oppressed. I left many of my books and pictures to the club, to be for the good of the members, as well as a token of my regard for them.
It was not the least of my sad pleasures to visit my friends, the villagers. Poor heathen, as some might call them, had hearts to feel. Some clung to me with tears, and others threw themselves upon the ground, with loud lamentations. One of the expressions that touched me most, was from one of the old widows, who, in her sobs exclaimed, “What will become of the poor widows, when the Sahib has gone?”
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