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baggage, and come on to the city early on Sunday. There was none such on his part, and he hired a guide and a fresh horse, paying a guinea for the two, and set off alone for the city. I remember right well his cheerful face as he rode off that evening across the magnificent plain, waving his hand back to us as long as we could see him, and riding his horse as if he were born on horseback. He was the best horseman, for an American, that I have ever seen, riding always freely and gracefully.
"You have said nothing of your adventure at Nablous, in which he saved you from Bedouin spears. There was nothing in all my journey that pleased me more in Righter than his modesty at that spot. The Bedouins were again in commotion when we were there, and the Governor of Jerusalem, with two hundred men, was a close prisoner in the walls of Nablous, not daring to venture out to go to Jerusalem, on account of the state of the Arabs. We were unmolested here, though we had to show our pistols the next day near Samaria. But his account of your adventure, on the ground precisely where it occurred, modest as it was, gave me a more thrilling idea of your danger, and of his noble interposition, than any previous descriptions had given. It was characteristic of him. He was impetuous in his feelings and actions, frank, faithful and noble.
"This journey to Mosul he had in mind when we were at Damascus. M. and myself intended to go on from Damascus, across the country, but the state of the interior forbade a lady to attempt this, and we reluctantly abandoned it. Still we talked with him of accompanying him this winter, a plan that was forbidden by our sad call to return to America. When we read his letter last week in the Observer, describing his voyage down the Tigris, we again and again expressed our regret that we were not with him, and the very day that you sent me word of his death, M. had been saying 'Don't you wish we were with Righter on the Tigris?' I have often before me the pleasures of that journey, yet to be made, but I know no spot in all the East to which I shall direct my steps with so much of interest and grief, as to the grave of our friend. You have already printed much that has been said by those who knew him as a missionary, perhaps it will not be out of place to print these memories of him by one who knew him as a companion and friend.
"W. C. P."
From the Bible Society Record.
ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. C. N. RIGHTER.
THE PILGRIM AT REST.
AND he is gone, the young, the noble hearted,
Yes, God was good;* for by his mercy cherished,
Beside the bed where dying ones in anguish
I see the failing eye his face exploring,
Which, like an angel's, beams with lucid light; I hear his voice, God's precious words outpouring And holding Christ before the sinner's sight.
Not the mere form, oh, not the sculptured image;
Not the racked form, the marred and blood-stained visage,
With pierced hands extended on the rood!
*Mr. Righter" especially dwelt on the goodness of God: 'How good God is: O how good He is.'"-MR. WALKER.
Not this, but as a God of rich compassion,
How many an eye, the mists of death o'erfilming,
Glorious thy mission in that field of sadness,
And as in devious ways thy feet were turning,
God was with thee, when o'er the current slowly
In morning sunshine, or when day grew dim.
God was with thee! and when amid the mountains,
His goodness led thee till thy feet had entered
The little "Tadmor" where his children dwell, And gave thee rest where his dear Church has centred, Within the music of the Sabbath bell.
And then He called thee-oh, that voice so thrilling,
But that with triumph all thy heart was filling,
Oh, what a Sabbath of intense communion
Was that which God bestowed upon his child! And, with his Saviour what a perfect union!
Oh, with what brightness the Deliverer smiled!
God's glory there was round about him shining,
While round him crowds of weeping brethren stood.
As o'er her darling's couch a mother bending,
Yes, thus He comes, and with his sweet caressing,
H. A. L.