On the day appointed for the funeral of the young man, hundreds were early at the house of the dead. The Temperance Societies were all present in mourning. Many who, through his instrumentality, had been led to Christ were there, and shed tears of genuine grief over his remains; aged Christians groaned in their sorrow. Indeed, there was scarcely one present who was not moved to tears.
The missionary preached the funeral sermon from John xi, 25:—“I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” He alluded to the consolation afforded in the sentence referring to eternal life. He exhorted all to prepare for death, and dealt the rumsellers a blow, which, connected with the circumstances that brought them together, led them to think, at least, of what they were doing. He concluded with a reference to the exemplary Christian character of the deceased, and exhorted all to follow him, as far as he had followed Christ.
Several other ministers were present, who also delivered short addresses of a very impressive character. These were followed by Mr. Truman, who made one of the most eloquent and masterly appeals in behalf of the Temperance cause ever made in that country. An aged minister then led in prayer, after which the painful exercises were closed.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DEATH.
THE murderer had been taken to the county jail to await his trial. In the meantime, suspicion was aroused that the prisoner was George Steele, but he steadily denied it, and insisted that he was John Pogue. The rumor coming to Mary’s ears, she at once feared that it might be true; and to relieve her mind of the dreadful suspense, she resolved to know the worst, and hence obtained permission to enter his cell. When the door was opened, there, in chains, sat George! Although she had felt that it would be so, she was nevertheless shocked at the sight before her. He tried to evade the recognition, but his heart failed; ungovernable emotions unmanned him, and he wept like a child.
“George, my brother, my dear brother, how could you do that thing?” she exclaimed, and her whole frame shook as she spoke. After a while she became more calm and asked the keeper to allow her to be alone with her brother for a short time; he consented, and she sat down on the bed, close beside her brother, as she did years ago, when they played under the elm-tree at their dear old home. He told her all—“But,” said he, “I was in liquor, and a fiend seemed to drive me to the awful deed! I was not to blame so much; I did not use to be so, did I, Mary?”