No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode.' "Perhaps, Clara," continued Miss Simmonds, "you may, in your walks through what is now called 'The Old Burial-ground,' a short distance from the village, have observed a lonely grave, marked by a plain marble headstone, and shaded by the branches of an aged tree; you may have noticed this grave, and never given a thought to the poor mortal who sleeps there. That is the grave of George Almont. Three years later, my father died, and I was left alone. Since that period I have lived sometimes alone, and occasionally spending a short time with any family who happen to require my services, as I find it necessary to do something for my own support. I have been able to support myself in comfort and respectability, and even occasionally to bestow charity in a small way to those less favored than myself. I know not why I felt so much inclined to relate these circumstances to you this evening, for you are the first stranger to whom I ever related the story connected with my early life. I am no longer young, but the memory of my early sorrows time can never efface; although, aided by religion, I have learned resignation and cheerfulness. One thing more," continued Miss Simmonds, "and I have done." Rising, she opened a drawer and, taking a locket therefrom, she placed it in my hand, saying,-- "You may, if you wish, Clara, look upon a picture of George Almont, taken when he was twenty-five years of age." Opening the locket, I looked upon the picture of what must have been a very fine looking young man. I never beheld a more prepossessing countenance. No one who looked upon that picture would have dreamed of the sad story attached to the life of the original. Closing the locket, I gave it back to Miss Simmonds, who replaced it in the drawer without once looking upon the picture it contained. In conclusion, Miss Simmonds said,-- "I hope you are not wearied with an old woman's story." I assured her that it had deeply interested me, although I feared the recital had been painful to her. CHAPTER XVIII. A NEW JOY. I returned to my school, after having enjoyed a very pleasant visit with Miss Simmonds. I thought much of the story she had related to me. I endeavoured to learn a useful lesson from the cheerful resignation which Miss Simmonds evinced by her daily life. Obadiah still pursued his studies with much zeal; and, upon my return home, each succeeding week, I gave him all the assistance in my power. The amount of knowledge he had derived, by devoting his leisure hours to study, was indeed wonderful. Awkward as he at first appeared to me, I found, as he progressed in his studies, that he possessed a powerful intellect, which only required proper culture to enable him to become a talented and useful man.