ll of duty, demanding every citizen to contribute what he could, in means, labor, or life, to sustain the government of his country,— a sacrifice made the more willingly by me, when I consider how singularly benefited I have been by the institutions of the land, and that, up to this time, all the blessings of life have been showered upon me beyond what usually falls to the lot of man.
His body, placed in a rude coffin and enveloped in his country's flag, was buried in Oakwood Cemetery at Niagara, near the Episcopal Church which his family had built, and where, by faith and choice, he had long and lovingly worshipped.
The solemn dirge of the great cataract, so dear to him in life, sounds forever above his grave.
And it seems to those who knew and loved him, that he wrote his own best elegy in the beautiful lines which he composed in Europe, long years before, on hearing of the death of his classmate and friend, George Emerson.
I met our friends upon a foreign shore, And asked