overcast us in its presence--for we are looking on death; but we do not
fear for the little, lonely voyager--for the child has gone, simple and
trusting, into the presence of its all-wise Father; and of such, we
know, is the kingdom of heaven.

And so we parted from poor little baby. I and his poor old nurse
drove in a mourning carriage, in which lay the little coffin, early
in the morning, to the churchyard of ----. Sore, indeed, was my
heart, as I followed that little coffin to the grave! Another burial
had just concluded as we entered the churchyard, and the mourners
stood in clusters round the grave, into which the sexton was now
shovelling the mould.

As I stood, with head uncovered, listening to the sublime and touching
service which our ritual prescribes, I found that a gentleman had drawn
near also, and was standing at my elbow. I did not turn to look at him
until the earth had closed over my darling boy; I then walked a little
way apart, that I might be alone, and drying my eyes, sat down upon a
tombstone, to let the confusion of my mind subside.

While I was thus lost in a sorrowful reverie, the gentleman who had stood
near me at the grave was once more at my side. The face of the stranger,
though I could not call it handsome, was very remarkable; its expression
was the purest and noblest I could conceive, and it was made very
beautiful by a look of such compassion as I never saw before.

"Why do you sorrow as one without hope?" he said, gently.

"I _have_ no hope," I answered.