The Editor of "Notes and Queries" could not satisfy me. His general suggestions and kind desire to aid me were well-nigh fruitless, so that there remained for me the course of watching and waiting, as none of my neighbours could, or would, go beyond the conclusive statement of the sexton, "It must not be!" or what was even more indefinite, "I have never heard of such a thing." The subject was a fruitful source of thought for some months, and in vain I tried to connect some religious custom of other days, or to find some Text of Scripture, which might have given rise to the idea, if mistranslated, or twisted by human ingenuity, to serve such a purpose, but none occurred to me that in the least would bear of such a contortion. In my intercourse with my older parishoners I sought in vain to test the unbaptized or suicidal burying place theory as suggested above, but this was entirely foreign to them. At length, the truth of the old saying, "_All things come to those who wait_" brought its due reward. I was called in to visit an aged parishoner, who was nearing the end of life's journey, and among other subjects naturally came the thoughts, and wishes, of this old saintly man's last hours on earth. He had been a shepherd for well nigh sixty years, and a widower for the past fifteen years, and in consequence he had lived and worked much alone. This had produced a thoughtful spirit, and a certain slowness of speech, so that he was quite the last man I should have consulted for a solution of my mystery. Yet, here the secret was unfolded, or to my mind more satisfactorily explained, than by any previous consultation with either men or books. The grand old labourer, or faithful shepherd, as he was laid helpless on his bed, with his life work symbol--the shepherd's crook, standing idle in the corner, and his trusty dog, restless and perplexed, roaming from room to room, was a wonderful picture of a Christian death-bed. There I learned many a solemn life-lesson never to be forgotten. The calm voice, the monosyllabic answers given in response to my questions are still fresh to me; and there I learned the source of my Churchyard Superstition in the following manner:-- With a strange, weird, unnatural light in the aged man's eyes, which portrayed much anxiety of mind, he spoke about his burial-place, and particularly emphasising the words "_On the south side, sir, near by the wife_." When I ventured to inquire if he knew why such a strong objection was held to burial on the north side of the church. He started suddenly, and I shall never forget his reproachful, sad look as he more readily than usual gave the answer:--"The left side of Christ, sir: we don't like to be counted among the goats."