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canoes of the old unknown time, the stately river has seen them all come and go, and yet holds its way past forest and promontory, still beautiful and un changing. Generation after generation, daring hunter, ardent discoverer, silent Indian, all the shadowy peoples of the past have sailed its waters as we sail them, have lived perplexed and haunted by mystery as we live, have gone out into the Great Darkness with hearts full of wistful doubt and questioning, as we go; and still the river holds its course, bright, beauti ful, inscrutable. It stays; we go. Is there anything beyond the darkness into which generation follows generation and race follows race? Surely there is an after-life, where light and peace shall come to all who, however defeated, have tried to be true and loyal; where the burden shall be lifted and the heart ache shall cease; where all the love and hope that slipped away from us here shall be given back to us again, and given back forever.

Via crucis, via lucis.

THE END.