His wife survived, but one day I stood with only a few who knew
her, at the door of an open tomb, and a strange thrill passed over me
when one by my side said, as her body was placed within, "This is the
last of her race--the family is extinct!"
The good, kind-hearted "General" sleeps within sound of the Pacific
waves, for he, too, was one of the early Californians. And the Admiral,
the pure-hearted, high-minded and keen-eyed Admiral, has long since
laid down his burdens and his aspirations. And so also with many, too
many for me here to recount. The two sisters that I have described with
flowing hair, grew in loveliness to full womanly beauty and then passed
to the angelic world.
Mr. Ryckman, surnamed the "Omniarch," reigns no more in this sphere.
Peace to his memory.
The downfall of the Association was the wrecking of Irish John. He
seemed homeless and aimless. The constant smiles on that remarkable
face gave way to soberness profound. Old habits crept back upon him. He
had a friend, one of our number, who took a kindly interest in him, but
could not follow all his waywardness. He departed for New York,
ostensibly for business. Not long after this his friend received a note
from there in John's handwriting, saying that if he would send to a
certain number and street he would find something for him.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315