So, surrounded by the tender care of the family he adored--in his bed--under the same roof that sheltered the horses he had loved--beneath the great flag he reverenced--with his dog at his feet--quiet, peaceful, dignified, such was the passing of John Hickey, coachman.
We covered him with flowers. Nothing was too good to be offered in this last gift to the man who had walked so far with us along life’s highway. I had already ordered mass to be said for him. And then I paid him my last visit. I went alone, and talked to him, as foolish women will talk to their dead, and told him how and why I missed sending for the priest, and while I looked at him, I noticed for the first time what a fine head he had, the clearness of his profile, and above all, the calm dignity of his expression. Slowly, like music, there rolled through my memory certain words of Holy Writ: “He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth the needy out of the dunghill; that He may set him with princes, even with the princes of his people.”
And I knelt at the coffin’s side and prayed for this good and faithful servant and friend. A little later I stood on the porch, and through blinding tears saw my husband a second time walk with bared head by “Old John’s” side--a second time escorting him to a home.
So he passed out of my life, but never will he pass from my memory. Though he left us without “warning,” and asked for no “recommendation,” we cannot complain, since he “bettered” himself in following the summons of the Great Master.
That old, black “Watch” believed himself the general superintendent of John Tyler’s “back-wood” farm, as well as the guardian of his family, no one could doubt who noticed his busy self-importance, from the candle-light breakfast till the eight o’clock retirement of the family. Then, only, he felt free to visit the secret repository of the few bones he had acquired, or to take a run down the road, and through the woods, to pick a fight with the only dog of his weight to be found within a ten-mile radius.
I should not like to say, off-hand, just what breed “Watch” represented, but he was black all over--was short-haired, heavy-built, and mastiff-like in head and chest. One ear had been injured in a fight with city dogs, and it lopped helplessly ever after, while the good ear seemed doubly quick and perky by comparison.