me for saying so, for isn't it the will of God? but oh! it is the
heaviest of all thrials to lose such a woman as she was!"

Old grandfather, as he was called, had latterly become very feeble,
and was barely able to be out of bed on that occasion. When the tumult
reached the room where he sat with some of the aged neighbors, he
inquired what had occasioned it, and being told that the coffin was
about to be removed to the hearse, he rose up.

"That is Tom's voice I hear," said he, "and I must put an end to
this." He accordingly made his appearance rather unexpectedly among them,
and approaching his son, said, putting his hand commandingly upon
his shoulder, and looking in his face with a solemn consciousness of
authority that was irresistible, "I command you, Tom, to stop. It's not
many commands that I'll ever give you--maybe this will be the last--and
it's not many ever I had occasion to give you, but now I command you to
stop and let the funeral go on." He paused for a short time and looked
upon the features of his son with a full sense of what was due to his
authority. His great age, his white hairs, his venerable looks and
bearing, and the reverence which the tremulous but earnest tones of his
voice were calculated to inspire, filled his son with awe, and he was
silent.

"Father," said he, "I will; I'll try and obey you--I will."

"God bless you and comfort you, my dear son," said the old man. "Keep
silence, now," he proceeded, addressing the others, "and bring the
coffin to the hearse at wanst. And may God strengthen and support you
all, for it's I that knows your loss; but like a good mother as she was,
she has left none but good and dutiful childre' behind her."

Poor Dora, during the whole morning, had imposed a task upon herself
that was greater than her affectionate and sorrowing heart could bear.
She was very pale and exhausted by the force of what she had felt, and
her excessive weeping; but it was observed that she now appeared to
manifest a greater degree of fortitude than any of the rest. Still,
during this assumed calmness, the dear girl, every now and then, could
not help uttering a short convulsive sob, that indicated at once her
physical debility and extraordinary grief. She was evidently incapable
of entering into conversation, or at least, averse to it, and was
consequently very silent during the whole morning. As they stooped,
however, to remove the coffin, she threw herself upon it, exclaimin