Year: 1869

| The funeral services were ended, and
as the voice of prayer ceased, tears were
hastily wiped from wet checks, and long
drawn sighs relieved suppressed and
choking sobs, as the "mourners prepared
to take leave of the corpse"


1t was an old man who lay here, robed
for the grave. More than threescore
years had whitened those locks, and fur
rowed that brow, and made those stiff
limbs weary of lifes journey, and the
more willing to lie down and rest where
weariness is no longer a burden. The
aged have few to weep for them when
they die. The most of those who would
have mourned their loss have gone TO the
grave before them; harps that would
have sighed sad harmonies are shattered
and gone; and the few that remain are
looking cradleward rather than to life's
closing goal are bound to, and livingi in
the generation rising, more than the gen.
Grafton departing.


Youth and beauty have many admir-
ers while living-have many mourners
when dying; and many fearful ones
bend over their coffined clay-many sad
hearts follow in their funeral train. But
age has few admirers, few mourners.


This was an old man, and the circle of
mourners was small-two children, who
had themselves passed the middle of life,
and who had children of their own to
care for and be cared for by them. Be-
sides these, and few friends who had
seen and visited him while he was sick,
and possibly had known him for few
years, there were none others to shed
tear, except his old wife, And of this
small company the old wife seemed to
be the only heart mourner. tbs respect
full for his friends to be sad a few mo-
ments, till the service is performed and
the hearse out Of sight. 1t is very prof
liable and suitable for children who have
outgrown the fervency and affection of
h
says farewell, and lies down to quiet
slumber. Some regrets, some recollec-
tions of the past, some transitory griefs,
and the pangs are over. Not always so.
But, often how little true, genuine heart
sorrow there is.


The old wife arose with difficulty from
her seat, and went to the coffin to look
her last look--to take her last farewell.
Through the fast falling tears she gazed
long and fondly down into the pale, un-
conscious face. What did she see there ?
Others saw nothing but the rigid features
of the dead: she saw more! In every
wrinkle of that brow she read the histo-
ry of years. From youth to manhood,
from manhood to old age; in JOY and
sorrow, in sickness and health-it was
all there when those children who had
not quite outgrown the sympathies of
childhood were infants lying on her bo-
som, and every year since then-there it
was! To others, those dull, mute mon
itors were unintelligible to her they
were the alphabet of the heart, familiar
as household words. And then the ftl-
ture? "What will become of me p
What shall do ?" She did not say
so, she did not say anything, but she felt
it. The prospect of the old wife is
clouded The home circle is broken
never to be reunited the visions of the
hearthstone are scattered forever. Or
to that hour there was a home to which
the hearts always turned with fondness
But that magic is sundered-the key
stone of that sacred arch is fallen, ant
now home is nowhere this side of heaven
What, children! be a pensioner upor
their kindness, where she may be NOR,
of a burden than a blessing ; so, at least
she thinks. Or shall she gather up tn,
scattered fragments of that broken arch
make them her temple and her shrine
sit down in her shrill solitude beside it
expiring fires, and die ? What shall sh
: do now2


They gently crowded her away fror
the dead, and the undertaken came fol
ward with the coffin lid in his hand.
is all right and proPer-of course