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_52_


man' i fold
do mes' tic
pet' tish ly
in grat' i tude



MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.


It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
tenderness.

But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as