t down beside it to pray, it was in a calmer and more
submissive frame of mind than he had yet known.

It was late in the afternoon ere Owen was once more on the road down
the mountain; for it was necessary--or at least believed so--that the
internment should take place on the day of death.

"I never thought it would be this way you'd go to your last home, father
dear," said Owen aloud and in a voice almost stifled with sobs; for the
absence of all his friends and relatives at such a moment, now smote
on the poor fellow's heart, as he walked beside the little cart on which
the coffin was laid. It was indeed a sight to move a sterner nature than
his: the coffin, not reverently carried by bearers, and followed by its
long train of mourners, but laid slant-wise in the cart, the spade and
shovel to dig the grave beside it, and Patsy seated on the back of the
ass, watching with infant glee the motion of the animal, as with careful
foot he descended the rugged mountain. Poor child! how your guileless
laughter shook that strong man's heart with agony!

[Illustration: 120]

It was a long and weary way to the old churchyard. The narrow road,
too, was deeply rutted and worn by wheel-tracks; for, alas, it had been
trodden by many, of late. The grey daylight was fast fading as Owen
pushed wide the old gate and entered. What a change to his eyes did the
aspect of the place present! The green mounds of earth which marked
the resting-place of village patriarchs, were gone; and heaps of
fresh-turned clay were seen on every side, no longer decorated, as of
old, with little emblems of affectionate sorrow; no tree, nor stone,
not even a wild flower, spoke of the regrets of those who remained. The
graves were rudely fashioned, as if in haste--for so it was--few dared
to linger there!

Seeking out a lone spot near the ruins, Owen began to dig the grave,
while the little child, in mute astonishment at all he saw, looked on.

"Why wouldn't you stay out in the road, Patsy, and play there, till I
come to you? This is a cowld damp place for you, my boy."

"Nony! Nony!" cried the child, looking at him with an affectionate
smile, as though to say he'd rather be near him.

"Well, well, who knows but you're right? if it's the will of God to take
me, maybe you might as well go too. It's a sore thing to be alone in
the world, like me now!" And as he muttered the last few words he ceased
digging, and rested his head on the cross of the spade.