ough the midnight gloom; the
cold burden of life, the mystery of death, the omnipotence of God, the
unfathomableness of Eternity,--all pressed upon me with such a crushing
weight, my spirit gasped and fainted beneath the burden.

One moment it seemed that worlds would not tempt me to look again on
that shrouded form, so majestic in its dread immobility,--its cold, icy
calmness,--then drawn by an awful fascination, I would gaze and gaze as
if my straining eyes could penetrate the depths of that abyss, which no
sounding line has ever reached.

I saw her laid in her lowly grave. My mother, too, was there. Dr.
Harlowe did every thing but command her to remain at home, but she would
not stay behind.

"I would follow her to her last home," said she, "if I had to walk
barefoot over a path of thorns."

Only one sun rose on her unburied form,--its setting rays fell on a
mound of freshly heaved sods, where a little while before was a mournful
cavity.

Mrs. Linwood sent her beautiful carriage to take us to the churchyard.
Slowly it rolled along behind the shadow of the dark, flapping pall.
Very few beside ourselves were present, so great a panic pervaded the
community; and very humble was the position Peggy occupied in the world.
People wondered at the greatness of our grief, for she was _only_ a
servant. They did not know all that she was to us,--how could they? Even
I dreamed not then of the magnitude of our obligations.

I never shall forget the countenance of my mother as she sat leaning
from the carriage windows, for she was too feeble to stand during the
burial, while I stood with Dr. Harlowe at the head of the grave. The sun
was just sinking behind the blue undulation of the distant hills, and a
mellow, golden lustre calmly settled on the level plain around us. It
lighted up her pallid features with a kind of unearthly glow, similar to
that which rested on the marble monuments gleaming through the weeping
willows. Every thing looked as serene and lovely, as green and
rejoicing, as if there were no such things as sickness and death in the
world.

My mother's eyes wandered slowly over the whole inclosure, shut in by
the plain white railing, edged with black,--gleamed on every gray stone,
white slab, and green hillock,--rested a moment on me, then turned
towards heaven, with such an expression!

"Not yet, my mother, oh, not yet!" I cried aloud in an agony that could
not be repressed, clinging to Dr. Harlowe's arm as