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"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a

man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine.

I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious

there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded

away. I see him, fore-most of just judges and honoured men,

bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden

hair, to this place--then fair to look upon, with not a trace of

this day's disfigurement--and I hear him tell the child my story,

with a tender and a faltering voice.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done;

it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever

known."