At this part of the conversation Powis joined them; and Mordaunt, having chatted a few minutes with him, took his leave. But though he had talked of leaving Llanwyllan on the next day, he did not go until that following; and on the Sunday he attended Mrs. Ross and the young people to the neat parish church, where he was greatly pleased and edified with the serious and dignified manner in which the venerable Ross performed the service. His fine countenance, shaded with grey hair, the rich tones of his voice, and the energetic manner in which he exhorted his rustic congregation, inspired Mordaunt with the utmost respect for him, and with a fervour of devotion he had rarely before experienced. Nor did he less admire the unaffected piety and attention of Mrs. Ross and her two pupils, who, once within the church, appeared too deeply impressed with the intention of their coming, to permit that either look or thought should stray to any other object. As they returned through the church-yard, Mordaunt was delighted to see the neatness, and even elegance with which this repository of the dead was kept. The graves, bound with osier-bands, and decorated with fresh flowers, as is customary through all Wales, excited in him sentiments of the tenderest nature; he was charmed to witness the effects of a love which survived the tomb, and whispered to Ellen, that wherever he lived, he should wish to be buried in Wales. "Idle as it may seem," said he, "to care what becomes of this perishable frame when the immortal spirit is fled, yet in the truth of Gray's inimitable reflections on this subject I cannot but coincide:-- "Even from the grave the voice of Nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires." As Ellen had never met with Gray, Mordaunt now repeated to her some of the finest stanzas, and promised to send her the poem in the morning following. What a happiness for her that she had never been condemned to hear this enchanting elegy hacknied till even its beauties are lost in the insipid recitation of girls who learn it as a task. CHAP. IV. A prattling gossip, on whose tongue Proof of perpetual motion hung, Who with a hundred pair of eyes, The vain attacks of sleep defies; Who with a hundred pair of wings, News from the farthest quarters brings, Sees, hears, and tells, untold before, All that she knows, and ten times more. CHURCHILL.