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"He left a good name," said out, "and that is something."

"And a legacy of noble deeds that were done in the name of humanity," remarked another.

"And precious examples," said a third.

"Lessons of patience in suffering; of hope in adversity; of heavenly confidence when no sunbeams fell upon his bewildered path," was the testimony of another.

"And high truths, manly courage, heroic fortitude."

"Then he died rich," was the emphatic declaration. "Richer than the millionaire who went to his long home on the same day, miserable in all but gold. A sad funeral, did you say? No, my friend, it was a triumphant procession! Not the burial of a human clod, but the ceremonies attendant on the translation of an angel. Did not succeed! Why, his whole life was a series of successes. In every conflict he came off victor, and now the victor's crown is on his brow. Any grasping, soulless, selfish man, with a moderate share of brain, may gather in money, and learn the art of keeping it, but not one in a hundred can conquer bravely, in the battle of life, as Edmonson has conquered, and step forth from the ranks of men a Christian hero. No, no, he did not die poor, but rich, rich in neighborly love, and rich in celestial affections; and his heirs have an interest in the administration of his affairs. A large property has been left, and let them see to it that they do not lose precious things through false estimates and ignorant depreciations. There are higher things to gain in this world than wealth that perishes. He dies rich who can take his treasures with him to the new land where he is to abide forever; and he who has to leave all behind on which he has placed his affections, dies poor indeed."