ht that
sacred spot to weep over the loved and lost. Near this, beneath a shady
yew, was the lowly bed of the poor man's daughter, whose remains had
just been placed therein.

Mrs. Dunmore leaned thoughtfully against the tree, and sighed as she
recalled her own bereavements, and her Christian heart was busy in
suggesting some means of consolation for the stricken parents. Mr.
Colbert was stooping by a distant tomb reading its epitaph to little
Jennie, who listened with the deepest interest. There was no sound to
mar the stillness of that peaceful retreat, the whispering winds went,
dirge-like, through the waving grass, and the leaves rustled softly
above the quiet sleepers.

Even the child felt the awful solemnity of the place, and crept nearer
to the kind minister, as he told her of the dear lamb that was so early
called away to the green pastures. The stone at her head was somewhat
like that at Bella's grave, and violets grew all over the turf, too, and
Jennie gathered a bunch of the sweetest and took them to her mother, who
crushed them in her bosom and moistened them with her tears. Slowly and
regretfully they left the spot so fraught with sad yet chastening
influences, and sought their happy homes, yet not without leaving their
prayers and their sympathies at the mourner's humble cottage.

CHAPTER IX.

The summer went joyously on, and the minister and child roamed about
amid the green things of the earth. All the loveliest haunts of that
pleasant spot had echoed the grave, but gentle tones of the man of God,
and the answering prattle of the little one who went tripping on by his
side, sometimes thoughtful and earnest, sometimes merry and glad; and
now the time had come for Mrs. Dunmore to return to her city residence,
and they must bid their kind friends at the Rectory good-by. Mrs.
Colbert sat with her son upon the rustic bench, and the child was
between them holding a hand of each. Mr. Colbert pushed her dark hair
from her forehead, and said, as he looked in her tearful eyes; "Jennie
is sorry to part with her old friends, but perhaps she will forget them
before another summer?"

"I fear we shall not be able to return to ---- for several years to
come;" said Mrs. Dunmore. "I have just received a summons from my
husband's mother, who is in very feeble health, and as I shall devote
myself to her during her life, I must forego the pleasure of my summer
home for awhile. Jennie will be placed at Madame La