The tomb of Adam! How touching it was, here in a land of strangers, far
away from home, and friends, and all who cared for me, thus to discover
the grave of a blood relation. True, a distant one, but still a
relation. The unerring instinct of nature thrilled its recognition. The
fountain of my filial affection was stirred to its profoundest depths,
and I gave way to tumultuous emotion. I leaned upon a pillar and burst
into tears. I deem it no shame to have wept over the grave of my poor
dead relative. Let him who would sneer at my emotion close this volume
here, for he will find little to his taste in my journeyings through the
Holy Land. Noble old man—he did not live to see me—he did not live to
see his child. And I—I—alas, I did not live to see _him_. Weighed down
by sorrow and disappointment, he died before I was born—six thousand
brief summers before I was born. But let us try to bear it with
fortitude. Let us trust that he is better off where he is. Let us take
comfort in the thought that his loss is our eternal gain.