“Well, the fact is,” said Harry, “I will be married in thirty days, and it is my urgent desire that you shall be with me on my marriage day, as a guest, if not as a friend.”

“I can make but a poor guest,” he replied.  “My heart is too full of grief to willingly join in the mirth and happiness such festivities bring with them.  You must therefore excuse me.  I should indeed start at once did I not desire to find a place to leave this child.”

“You need not trouble yourself about him,” remarked Harry, “the doctor assured your wife that he should take care of the boy, and I feel certain he will be a father to him during your absence.  Nor will I excuse your absence at my wedding, for I do not see why you should object if I desire it, and Emma, I know, will be very much pleased at your presence.  So offer no excuses, but prepare yourself to remain.”

“As you appear so much to desire it,” he answered.  “I will remain, but I assure you I feel but little inclined for such pleasure at the present time, particularly a wedding, which cannot fail to bring up reminiscences of a happy day, not so long gone but that it still remains in my memory, as fresh and vivid as when I was an actor in a similar occasion.”

“Let not such thoughts disturb you,” said Harry, “let the Past bury the Past.  Look forward only to the Future, and there you will find objects worthy of your ambition, and if you will pursue them, they will serve to eradicate from your mind the harrowing scene you have just passed through.  Believe me, Alfred,” he continued, “it will never do to pass your days in vain regrets at what is passed and vanished.  It serves to irritate and keep open the wounds in our lives, while it never soothes the afflicted, nor gives us a moment of peace.  Let the present and future alone occupy your thoughts.  They will give you food for reflection, sufficient to bury all former unhappiness, and to entail upon you a return of that earthly joy you once possessed.”

“Your remarks are correct in theory, my friend,” replied Alfred, “but they cannot be put into practice.  Sooner can the Mississippi river be drained of its waters than the inexorable Past be obliterated from the mind of man.  It must ever remain in his memory, and though at times it may lie dormant, the slightest event will be all that is necessary to awake it into life.  The cares of the present may deprive it of active participation in the mind; anxiety for the future may prevent the mind of man from actively recurring to it, but it still remains indelibly imprinted on the memory, and though a century of years should pass, and the changes of Time render the Present opposite to the Past, the latter can never be forgotten.  Think not that coming years can render me oblivious to my present affliction.  They may make dull the agony I now feel, and perchance I will then wear as bright a smile as I did in years ago, but the remembrance of my wife and child will never be blunted; no, nor shall a shade cross over my heart, and dim the affection I had for them, while living, and for their memory now that they are in the grave.”