The mutations of Mr. Armstrong's mind were like the changes of an April day. The softer mood was now prevailing, and as Faith kissed the flowers, before she put them in her bosom, she felt less unhappy than in the morning. CHAPTER XXVI. Whose part in all the pomp that fills, The circuit of the summer hills. Is that his grave is green. And deeply would their hearts rejoice, To hear again his living voice. BRYANT. The funeral, with the usual celerity with which such things are done in our country, was to take place on the next day. Too often the haste appears indecent, and it may be that in some instances the body has been buried before life deserted it. It would seem that the family felt constrained by the presence of the corpse, and compelled to exercise an irksome self-control, and, therefore, desired to hurry it under ground, as if it would be less likely there to know how soon it was forgotten. But in the present case there was no reason why the body should be longer kept. There could be no doubt that life was extinct. It had lain too long in the water to admit a ray of hope to the contrary. The sooner it was placed in its final earthly home the better for poor Jane Sill, the widow. Her grief would the sooner be mitigated, by withdrawing her thoughts from the dead to fix them on the necessity of providing for the living. Until the burial the sympathizing neighbors took upon themselves to perform the usual work of the household, such as cooking the necessary food, &c., and one or another came in at times to look after the children, to see that nothing was neglected for their comfort, and to console the lone woman in her affliction. But this could not last long. It was better it should not, but that things should, as quickly as possible, resume their usual and natural course.