“The doctor of divinity then mounted the horse himself, apparently with some uneasiness, and set out personally to bring the Bible at all events.

“By this time, however, the sun was set, and the whole company stood waiting in anxious expectation of the clergyman’s return, till darkness had taken possession of the earth; but there was yet no appearance of either the divine or his Bible.

“As it is more than probable he cannot find his book,’ said the man in the white linen coat, ’I am positive he will not return at all; and, as it is now almost dark, I am of opinion the sooner the funeral ceremonies are finished the better.  The body of the unfortunate Marcia ought not to be deposited in these silent retreats of death without some living token of our respect.  She was amiable while living, and notwithstanding the misfortune of a disordered brain, and an innocent, unsuspecting confidence in another’s honour, is, in my way of thinking, no less amiable when dead.—­Our friend, the Indian will, I know, be complaisant enough on this occasion to give us a few sentences, and then the venerable sexton may proceed to close the scene, and we shall be at liberty to return to our respective homes.’

“This man is not in holy orders,’ cried the sexton.

“He does not wear a black coat or gown,’ said the singing clerk.

“He has not a gray wig on his head, observed one of the church wardens.

“It is no matter,’ replied the man in the white linen coat, ’he has a plain understanding, has written a treatise on the virtues of tobacco, and knows what is common sense, as well as the best of you.’

“Casting my eyes at this instant toward the east, I perceived a glimmering among the trees, which proved to be the moon rising, two days after the full.  The evening was calm and serene, and every thing was hushed, except the surge of the ocean, which we could distinctly hear breaking on the rocks of the adjacent coasts; when, finding the parish clergyman did not return, the Indian shook the dew from his blanket, stepped boldly upon a tombstone of black marble, and, for reasons best known to himself, preferring the Indian style on this occasion, he thus began:—­

“Instead of these dismal countenances, why have we not a feast of seven days?  Instead of the voice of sorrow, why are not the instruments of music touched by the hand of skill?  Fair daughter of the morning! thou didst not perish by slow decay.  At the rising of the sun we saw thee; the ruddy bloom of youth was then upon thy countenance; In the evening thou wert nothing; and the pallid complexion of death had taken place of the bloom of beauty.—­And now thou art gone to sit down in the gardens that are found at the setting of the sun, behind the western mountains, where the daughters of the white men have a separate place allotted to them by the spirit of the hills.  As much as the mind is superiour to the body, so much are those charming regions preferable