"Oh yes" cried the child eagerly, proud to be her guide, "Maria used often to take us there in the summer evenings, and mama sometimes, we used to see that the flowers were taken care of, it is such a pleasant walk." "Do you remember grandpapa" oppressed with the silent anguish of her own heart. "I think I do" returned Willie, "He had such beautiful white hair, and sugar plums always in his pocket." Kate smiled, though her tears fell upon the little hand that lay in hers, as she recognised this picture. "Why do you cry, dear Kate?" asked Willie who was a loving creature, "you are never naughty." "I cry," returned Kate, "because I have not that dear grandpapa to walk with me or to love me any more." The child seemed baffled by misfortune so far beyond his comprehension, but soon renewed the conversation by one of those innocent questions of the state of the souls after death, which children propound almost as soon as they are capable of observing. "There it is--there it is"--he at length cried bounding forward to the head of a grave, separated from the turf around, by a couple of iron bars supported by small pillars of the same metal; some heartsease and laurels adorned the little enclosure; and at the head a block of marble carved to represent a gothic niche, and surmounted by the armorial bearings of the deceased, bore the following inscription:-- SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF COLONEL D'ARCY VERNON, OF DUNGAR, JUST, GENEROUS, BRAVE, AND TRUE. THIS STONE IS ERECTED BY A MOURNING RELATIVE, ONE OF THE MANY WHO OWE HIM AN UNREQUITABLE DEBT OF GRATITUDE. This simple, noble epitaph touched and gratified Miss Vernon's inmost soul. Simply and fervently she raised her soul to Heaven in silent prayer; and, at last, soothed and calmed by the just tribute so gracefully paid to the departed, she called to Willie, who (soon wearied of her motionless attitude) had wandered away. "I can never feel a shadow of anger against Georgy again for anything," she thought, as her eye took in all the advantages of the well-chosen site--it was in the highest part of the cemetery; far below, lay the mighty town, looming indistinct through the cloud and smoke that shrouded it, like life with its trials, mean and great all hidden, in their tendencies, by the mist of human vision--while around and beyond was the clear blue sky, the balmy air, and the song of the birds, like the region of pure joy, and undimmed faith, to which the wearied spirit had escaped. * * * * * "Please 'm, there's a gentleman waiting to see you in the drawing-room," said the spruce Maria, one evening about a week after, when Kate and Mrs. Storey returned from a round of visits, into which the former had been entrapped.