"Why should we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms?" was read and sung. Once more the children were all together under the roof where they had often met; all save the son whose home was now in a sunnier clime. But how unlike was this to their last joyful gathering! Hours of rejoicing, and hours of mourning, ye are strangely blended in the experience of human hearts. The little village burying-ground was not far distant. A grave was opened there, for him who but one short week ago was as full of life, of bounding vigor and of high hopes, as the strongest there. "Oh, had it been but told you then, To mark whose lamp was dim; From out the ranks of these young men Would ye have singled _him_? "Whose was the sinewy arm that flung Defiance to the ring? Whose shout of victory loudest rung? Yet not for glorying. "Whose heart in generous thought and deed, No rivalry could brook? And yet distinction claiming not; There lies he,--go and look! "Tread lightly, comrades! we have laid His dark locks on his brow; Like life, save deeper light and shade,-- We'll not disturb them now!" Of all who stood by that open grave, none wept so passionately as little Arthur. He could not control his emotions, and it was in vain that friends tried to soothe him. Poor child! did a sad presentiment of coming evil pass over his soul? "Slowly and sadly they laid him down," and "slowly and sadly" they returned home; that home now so vacant, so desolate! There let us leave them; sorrowing, but "not sorrowing as those without hope." It is on just such scenes as these, that the light of Christian Faith shines with a pure and holy radiance, cheering the bereaved heart, and speaking sweet words of reunion, of immortality, of glory "which fadeth not away." CHAPTER VIII MORE TRIALS. The next day Arthur returned to Mr. Martin's. His affectionate heart was saddened, and every pleasure seemed to have lost its charm. But the griefs of childhood quickly pass away; and Arthur in a few days became calm and cheerful. A close observer, however, might have seen a deeper shade of thoughtfulness in his eyes, and a softer tone in his always gentle voice. He went to school again, and mingled in his quiet way, with the sports of his companions. Theodore could not be spared from home-duties to attend school in the summer months, and Arthur saw much less of him than formerly. They would meet occasionally after tea, and with Rover by their side, stroll down by the stream which wound in fanciful little curves about the lot; or would play at ball, on the green before the house. Arthur seemed less inclined than usual for noisy sports, and Theodore sometimes thought he was a sad, stupid playfellow. One evening about five weeks after Henry's funeral, Mrs. Martin said to her husband,--