C. Edwards Lester, Life and public services of Charles Sumner: Born Jan. 6, 1811. Died March 11, 1874.

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Last evening I passed by that house so soon to be despoiled of its precious books and art-treasures. It was apparently unchanged—lighted up as cheerfully as before he went away; even the graceful transparencies in those pleasant study-windows remained as they were. The hall-door was open, and the gas-light shone full on the tall, old-fashioned clock, which had ticked off for him so many hours of faithful toil—of weary wakefulness, of cruel pain, till that last moment of mental agony, when his great, pure, honest heart broke.

How plainly that old clock repeats to the souls who loved the master of the house:

Never here, forever there,
Where all parting, pain and care,
And death and time shall disappear:
Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,
Forever—never—never, forever!

The face of Mr. Sumner in death bore more than the usual resemblance to Edmund Burke. With his gray hair resting like a glory on the pillow, he looked very noble, but so tired! We felt amid our grieving that all was well. God had given His beloved sleep.

Most of the floral offerings laid on the great Senator's coffin were from his colored friends. They lavished upon him the most rare and costly flowers. On his desk stood a bouquet of roses and azalias, white as the ‘white soul’ Emerson so honored.

Saddest of all sights was his empty chair, draped in mourning, and yet an august presence seemed to hover about it. If, indeed, he were there able to see, and hear, and understand; if he looked around on the scene of many struggles and conflicts, on his enemies and on his friends, what poor things must have seemed to him all human strifes and animosities; how precious human love and loyalty; how great and sorrowful a thing life; how beautiful and blessed death!