In those days, I trust and pray that
Canada may be the realization of that glowing picture of a grand
nation, drawn by a Canadian poet--
"The Northern arch, whose grand proportions,
Spans the sky from sea to sea,
From Atlantic to Pacific--
Home of unborn millions free!"
The heartfelt sympathy of the country has been expressed in many
forms, and ever with deep effect, and has twined a garland to drop
upon the graves of those who sleep to-night away in the wilds of the
North-West. Permit me to add one flower to that chaplet. You who are
mothers, and know the value of your dutiful sons, while living, and
have felt the greatness of their loss, when dead; you, who are
sisters, and have known a brother's affection, the recollection of
which draws you at times to his last resting place, to decorate that
home of the dead with a forget-me-not; you, above all, who have
experienced the love and devotion of a husband, and have mourned over
that flower which has forever faded in death--you will not hesitate in
joining with me, as I express, though feebly, my regret, and bring my
sincerest of tributes to place upon the lonely grave by the
Saskatchewan. Its united waters will sing their _requiem_ while I
say with Whittier:
"Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days;
None knew thee but to love thee,
None named thee but to praise!"
END.
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