Is full, in its essence, of edification.
[Looks down upon the grave.
Was it he, I wonder, that hacked through his knuckle
That day I was out hewing logs in the forest?
Who knows? If I weren’t standing here with my staff
By the side of the grave of this kinsman in spirit,
I could almost believe it was I that slept,
And heard in a vision my panegyric.—
It’s a seemly and Christianlike custom indeed
This casting a so-called memorial glance