It was Mr. Jackson too, who had put all the household in mourning, and who had made the arrangements for the funeral: at which, what was remarkable, was the concourse of the poor, and, perhaps, the unpremeditated part taken by our hero in the solemn pageant; for, when the hearse arrived at its destination, and the body was about to be lifted out, poor Edmund, to the astonishment of every one, was discovered lying across the coffin. He had not fainted; for, when brought into the light, he looked all round him vacantly, and, with a sudden movement, hid his face again. Mrs. Smyth had, it seems, some days before shown him the chamber of death, with all its awful circumstances; and on this morning, when dressing him, she had, inconsiderately, given vent to the petulance which often accompanies sorrow, in the following words:--"And its her ain sel 'at brought ye in aff the cald stanes, boy, and tak the wet rags aff ye, and put the warm clothing on ye, and geed ye bread when ye were hungry, boy; its hersel' they're goin' to carry oot the day, and leave her by hersel', in the cald church-yard!" Edmund made no reply; but soon after this he stole from the nursery, and lingered about the halls. Presently the bearers brought out the coffin; he followed at their feet, and when they lifted it into the hearse, he too clambered up unheeded. But here, no sooner was the hearse closed, and the consequent darkness complete, than the situation into which an impulse of grateful affection had led the poor child, proved too much for his strength. A strange sensation of awe, and worse than loneliness, at once silenced the sobs which had hitherto shaken his frame; the tears, which had been streaming over his cheeks, ceased to flow; his forehead became covered with the cold dew of superstitious terror; he was motionless; his very breathing was suspended; while still the wretched consciousness remained, that his little heart was breaking. And had the funeral not arrived at the church door at the moment it did, most probably either life or reason must have yielded to a combination of feelings so overwhelming. Mr. Jackson also preached the funeral sermon. All he was able to deliver were a few broken sentences of passionate admiration and pathetic regret, mingled with the tender hopes of piety, for the triumphant ones he could not reach.