The child was dressed in
white, with a wreath of roses around its head; and as it lay in its
father's arms, it did not seem dead but sleeping. The grave was not
quite ready, and the boys sat on the heap of dirt thrown out, and
played their violins until it was finished. The father then laid the
child carefully in its final resting-place, with its head to the
rising sun, folded its little hands across its breast, and closed
its fingers around a small wooden crucifix; and it seemed, as they
thought it was, happy at escaping the troubles of an uncertain
world. There were no tears shed; on the contrary, all were cheerful;
and though it appeared heartless, it was not because the father did
not love his child, but because he and all his friends had been
taught to believe, and were firm in the conviction, that, taken away
so young, it was transferred immediately to a better world. The
father sprinkled a handful of dirt over its face; the grave-digger
took his shovel; in a few moments the little grave was filled up,
and, preceded by the boys playing on their violins, they departed.'"
MRS. WILTON. "There is a spirit of thankfulness evinced in that
father's conduct which requires great faith. I fear none of us
would be found to possess as much under such a trial, for the spirit
is, unhappily, at most times under the dominion of the flesh."
GEORGE. "Is not Papagayo Bay close to the Lake of Nicaragua?"
EMMA. "It is only divided from the Ocean by a portion of the
district of Nicaragua.
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