nal earthly home the better for
poor Jane Sill, the widow. Her grief would the sooner be mitigated, by
withdrawing her thoughts from the dead to fix them on the necessity of
providing for the living. Until the burial the sympathizing neighbors
took upon themselves to perform the usual work of the household, such
as cooking the necessary food, &c., and one or another came in at
times to look after the children, to see that nothing was neglected
for their comfort, and to console the lone woman in her affliction.
But this could not last long. It was better it should not, but that
things should, as quickly as possible, resume their usual and natural
course.

When the hour for the ceremony arrived, Mr. Armstrong sent round his
carriage to convey the mourning family in the melancholy procession,
while he and Faith, as the distance was short, proceeded on foot to
the house. It was situated on a sandy beach, near the Wootuppocut, and
a considerable company had collected together before their arrival.
Poor Josiah's generosity and good-nature had made him a general
favorite, and his acquaintances had pretty generally turned out to
render to him the last testimony of affection it would ever be in
their power to pay. The house was too small to hold all present, so
that besides the relations, very few except females were admitted.
Faith entered, but her father, though courteously invited in, and in
consequence of his connection with the accident that caused the death,
considered in some wise a mourner, preferred to remain on the outside.
Meanwhile, during the preparations in the house, groups without were
scattered round, engaged, in low voices, in various conversation.
In some, expressions of condolence and pity were let fall for the
condition of the widow and her family; others descanted on the
good qualities of the deceased; others debated on what might be the
feelings of Armstrong, and wondered what he would give the widow. They
were all acquainted with his generosity, and doubted not of his desire
to repair, so far as he was able, the misfortune with which the more
ignorant would insist upon connecting him as in some sort, a cause.
For this reason, some of them stole sly glances, from time to time,
at his face, wishing not to be observed, as if they expected to read
therein his purposes. But Armstrong, his eyes fastened on the ground,
and absorbed in his own reflections, was unconscious of the attention
he attracted. So lost w