For many weary months, Emily, who,
though her heart could never truly
love the object of her anxiety, still felt
a wife’s sympathy for her husband’s
fate, looked vainly for tidings from her
absent lord. At length they came, and
they were those of shipwreck and death
—tho vessel had been wrecked on her
outward passage, and all on board had
perished!
The heart of Emily, familiar with
sorrow, bowed with resignation be
neath the blow. She was now alone
in the world, but for the society of her
brother, and the shadows of the buried
dead, the companions of by-gone years,
who reposed in the little village grave
yard, near which stood the cottage in
which she resided. To this humble
cemetery would she often repair, and
as she pruned the spreading sweet-bri
ar, planted by the hand of Clement by
his sister’s grave, tear drops would fall
upon flowers that decked the sod, and
her mind would revert to the hour
when by that grave her plighted faith
was breathed to the long long lost Cle
ment Wildred. - _ *
One evening as she was sitting by
her cottage window which looked into
the village grave-yard contemplatihg
the beauty of the full brown briar by
the grave of her early friend,a sudden
thought of other days rushed upon her
memory, and she became lost in med
itation.
