And then he took the part of comforter: "Aye, my lad, what art ta looking so sad abaat? Thaa mun't be cast daan, thaa mun come up aat o' th' valley; bless th' Lord!" he ran on, "I'm on Pisgah, and my soul is full of glory. I'm in soight o' th' promised land, hallelujah! I'll sooin be at haam."
In this happy frame he continued to the last. As long as he could speak at all, words of exultation and praise rose to his lips, and when he could no longer articulate, he fell back upon the signal, and lifted his hand, in token that all was well. Dear old Abe, he was come to the end of his course, the shades of death were upon him, he was crossing the narrow strip of neutral ground that divides the two worlds; friends stood in the margin of the shadow-land, watching him feebly lift his hand as he went over, till he could lift it no more, and when the signal dropt mourners knew that Old Abe was safe through.
He died in the Lord in November 1871, and left a memory behind that grows more fragrant as years go on. His dust lies buried in the graveyard in front of Salem Chapel, where, five years later, the remains of his devoted wife, Sally, were laid beside him. There let their dust sleep until that day "when they that are in their graves shall hear His voice, and come forth."
"Oh," said a good woman one day when talking over the subject of these pages, "I should just like to have an odd look into heaven, to see what Little Abe is about." What is he about? He is praising God in the glorious temple above: "And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in the temple. They rest not day and night saying, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come."
THE END.