t was nearing three o'clock of last Easter afternoon, when a woman,
clad in deepest mourning, entered the gates of the beautiful "sleeping
place" on Walnut Hill. Her attitude, as she sank upon a carefully tended
mound, denoted deep dejection. She had not yet learned that the "tree of
death is fruited with the love of God," neither the joy of the
"afterward," but knew only the grope of a stricken soul.

In the distance, sat a child upon a grave, alone. Coming nearer, she
recognized him as one who had never known a mother, and whose father had
lately been taken, leaving him without kindred. The love between that
father and child had been passing sweet.

The bereaved lady knew this, and that he had been thrown homeless upon
the world. Yet, absorbed in her own grief, had given him little thought.
Drawing near, she observed closely the rare beauty of the boy, scarcely
five years of age, genius and nobility stamped on his brow, and
exquisite tenderness on the mobile lips.

He looked up eagerly, asking fearlessly, "Is your name Mary? Are you the
woman who talked with the angel when the stone was rolled away."

"Oh, no, dear," she replied. "Whom are you looking for?"

"For Jesus!" said the boy reverently.

"But he is not here. He is risen."

"Yes, I know, that's it, but I've been waiting here all day for Him to
come and raise my papa up. He's late, and I thought maybe He sent you to
tell me to wait a little, just as He sent Mary to tell His disciples,
you know," said the boy, wistfully.

"Yes, dear, but"--hesitating to shatter the boy's beautiful faith.

"I am tired" (pathetically), "but it is never too late for Jesus," he
added bravely, while a tear rolled down the velvet cheek. "He is sure to
come, 'cause it is the Rising Day" (exultingly). "Don't you 'member?"

The woman stooped to kiss the child, and began to sob violently,
dropping on the grave beside him.

"What makes you cry, lady? Is your papa here to be raised up?"

"No, no, darling, but my sweet daughter is."

"Don't cry, then," stroking the lady's hand. "Jesus never goes by Rising
Day. He'll surely come and give you your little girl and me my papa!
He'll come to-night. I saw the two men who came from [256:A]Emmaus go by
early this morning, and they will be walking back soon in the evening,
and Jesus will meet them and turn and walk with them, and they will all
be talking gently about the dying and the rising, and the men will not
know Him, but I shall,