his form, and gained more than one
prize. This was his first glimpse of real delight since Russell's
death; and when the prize-day came, and he stood with his companions in
the flower-decorated room, and went up amid universal applause to take
his prize-books, and receive a few words of compliment from the governor
who took the chair, he felt almost happy, and keenly entered into the
pleasure which his success caused, as well as into the honours won by
his friends. One outward sign only remained of his late bereavement--
his mourning dress. All the prize-boys wore rosebuds or lilies of the
valley in their button-holes on the occasion, but on this day Eric would
not wear them. Little Wright, who was a great friend of theirs, had
brought some as a present both to Eric and Montagu, as they stood
together on the prize-day morning; they took them with thanks, and, as
their eyes met, they understood each other's thought.

"No," said Eric to Wright, "we won't wear these to-day, although we have
both got prizes. Come along; I know what we will do with them."

They all three walked together to the little green quiet churchyard,
where, by his own request, Edwin had been buried. Many a silent visit
had the friends paid to that grave, on which the turf was now green
again and the daisies had begun to blossom. A stone had recently been
placed to mark the spot, and they read--

Sacred To The Memory of

Edwin Russell

An Orphan Boy

Died At Roslyn School, May 1847,

Aged Fifteen Years.

_Is it well with the child? It is well_.

I Kings iv. 26.
The three boys stood by the grave in silence and sorrow for a time.

"He would have been the gladdest at our success, Monty," said Eric; "let
us leave the signs of it upon his grave."

And, with reverent hand, scattering over that small mound the choice
rosebuds and fragrant lilies with their green leaves, they turned away
without another word.

The next morning the great piles of corded boxes which crowded the
passage were put on the coach, and the boys, gladly leaving the deserted
building, drove in every sort of vehicle to the steamer. What joyous,
triumphant mornings those were! How the heart exulted and bounded with
the sense of life and pleasure, and how universal was the gladness and
good-humour of every one. Never were voyages so merry as those of the
steamer that day, and even the "good-byes" that had to