the rhododendron, mixed with the maple, the elm, and the tulip tree,
have found their way into the sacred enclosure. The reproach of
Puritanic insensibility is wiped out. Europe may boast of prouder
monuments, but she has no burial-places so beautiful as some of ours.
Père la Chaise is splendid in marble and iron, but the loveliness of
nature is wanting. Sweet Auburn, and Greenwood, and Laurel Hill are
peerless in their mournful charms.

The coffin was lowered into the grave in silence. No solemn voice
pronounced the farewell "ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The ceremonies
were concluded. The minister took off his hat, and addressing the
bystanders, some of whom, respectfully imitating his example, raised
the coverings from their heads, thanked them in the name of the
afflicted family for this last tribute of regard. The procession
was formed again, and slowly returned to the house, leaving the
grave-digger to shovel in the gravel and complete his task.

As Mr. Armstrong and Faith walked home together, but few words were
exchanged between them. Each was absorbed in reflection upon the scene
just witnessed. In Faith's mind it was solemn, but devoid of gloom.
With the hopefulness of health and youth, gleams of sunshine played
over the grave. She looked beyond, and hoped and trusted.

But with her father it was different. Had it not been for him Sill
might have been alive and well. He had made the wife a widow and her
children orphans. He had introduced weeping and wailing into a happy
home. But this was a slight calamity, and hardly worthy of a thought
in comparison with another. The words of the minister, that the victim
had been hurried to his sentence without time for preparation recurred
with a feeling of horror. It was he through whose instrumentality Sill