at the
feet of that simple couple lies the heart of their great son--a heart
which the sickness of earthly hope and the fever of earthly ambition
shall disturb no more.

By the Poet's own desire, "the rude memorial" that marks the spot
contains no more than his initials, and a few words in his native
tongue to mark the foundation of the only ambition that he could feel
in death--

"Ich verlasse mich auf Gottes Guete immer und ewiglich."

--_My trust is in the tender mercy of_ GOD _for
ever and ever._

A BIT OF GREEN.

"Thou oughtest, therefore, to call to mind the more heavy
sufferings of others, that so thou mayest the easier bear
thy own very small troubles."--THE IMITATION OF
CHRIST.

Children who live always with grass and flowers at their feet, and a
clear sky overhead, can have no real idea of the charm that country
sights and sounds have for those whose home is in a dirty, busy,
manufacturing town--just such a town, in fact, as I lived in when I
was a boy, which is more than twenty years ago.

My father was a doctor, with a very large, if not what is called a
"genteel," practice, and we lived in a comfortable house in a broad
street. I was born and bred there; and, ever since I could remember,
the last sound that soothed my ears at night, and the first to which I
awoke in the morning, was the eternal rumbling and rattling of the
carts and carriages as they passed over the rough stones. I never
noticed if I heard them in the day-time, but at night my chief
amusement, as I lay in bed, was to guess by the sound of the wheels
what sort of vehicle was passing.

"That light sharp rattle is a cab," I thought. "What a noise it makes,
and gone in a moment! One gentleman inside, I should think. There's an
omnibus; and there, jolty-jolt, goes a light cart; that's a carriage,
by the way the horses step; and now, rumbling heavily in the distance,
and coming slowly nearer, and heavier, and louder, this can be nothing
but a brewer's dray!" And the dray came so slowly that I was asleep
before it had got safely out of hearing.

Ours was a very noisy street, but the noise made the night cheerful;
and so did the church clock near, which struck the quarters; and so
did the light of the street lamps, which came through the blind and
fell upon my little bed. We had very little light, except gaslight and
daylight, in our street; the sunshine seldom found its way to us, and,
when