Year: 1870

saw it but day or two ago-a plain
white stone carved over with name and
date, that stands on the brow of green
and sunny hill, not q stones throw from
the comfortable farm house where the ten
ant of that grave once resided, and where
his wife and son still remained.


1t was the lonely wife who .Ointed it
out TO me, as we leaned together, in the
calm Sabbath evening twilight, over TIE
gate of the little church yard.


"He died suddenly she said, with a
tender glance at the white headsione.-
He Was taken from us by an accident,
and all in q moment, as / may say One
hour he reft the Louise as well es YOU and
are now and before another lad gone
by they brought him in ane LAID him down
before me-oh, so pale, so changed, and
suffering SO terribly, that | may truly say
/ was glad when his last breath was drawn.
Yes, deeply as loved him, and long as we
lived happily together, 1 was glad 10 close
his eyes and knew that he was out of mis-
cry and pain, and safe in q better world
than this. >


.'And do you like to see the grave so
near yOu-sO near your own home!'
asked.


"Why not?" she answered, with her
SAD yet cneertul smile.


elf 1t had been my husband / never
could have looked upon his grave. !
should wish to put the earth, and seas be-
tween me and such a sorrow as speedily as
possible. doubt if could bear it with
any degree of resignation where it was
brought so constantly before my mind es
this must be before yaurs."


''Ah! 1 thought SO once; but it was in
tho Haxyc nh . I
loving kindness of the hand that struck
the blow" she said gently. 81 am wiser
now, and / can see even the gain of suff-
erIng, as you may one day live to do. II
does not pain or grieve me to look at this
white stone: / think no longer of the
mOuldering dust beneath it. muse rath.
er over the glories of the ransomed saint
in heaven, of which this marble seems to
me an enduring type and sign. There, as
you see, is the plaza that is kept fer me be
side him 1 shall lie shere before many
years have passed over nay head-who
shall say how sOon2 And my onty pray
er is, that my boy may look on my grave
with the same resignation, the same calm
happiness that feel as look upon that of
his dear father now. If 1 was sure that
this would indeed be so, believe the Bit
terness of death would be past for me-"


Win that prayer of hers for her only
son be answered. Who can say?


But surely her thought is a gentle and a
tender one; and thus, if we were wise and
brave enough, should we all learn to think
of our beloved dead. So might we, per-
haps, in the end, if to us all it was given
to mourn openly and before I'll men for
that which we have loyed and lost. But
the dark was of life are many the darker
secrets of the human heart are not q few.


Reader, have you never mOurned q loss
wIthiq your secret heart on which, with
the gaze of the world :regsrdini you, you
have been Obliged to look with dry and ap-
parently Indifferent eyes? With your
whole life ruined and wasted beyond the
hope or power OF redemption by the loss
of one frail and erring human creature like
yourself, have you never been obliged TO
show that life to the word, still full of
purpOse-still alive and eager with ambi
tiOns plansl


All, these are the losses that wiring the
heart most deeply. These are the graves
that hold, beneath their daisied turf, the
sorrows crown of sorroW;" that make
the world desert to US forever after those
unwept graves are closed


Happy those who have never mOurneC
in secret beside such maHsoleums Hap.
py those whose dead the world may know,
who are mourned openly, tenderly anC
loyalty, like the sleep in the grave upor
the hill.