In the house of our neighbor Deuel--you know him--his young wife had just given birth to their first son.

How was she to fare on the journey?
She wept bitterly and her husband uttered fierce curses, but it was all in vain.

She was put in a cart with her babe, and as the arrangements went on, both submitted like all the rest--even Phineas who crept into a pigeon-house with his wife and five children, and crooked grave-haunting Kusaja.

Do you remember her?
Adonai! She had seen father, mother, husband, and three noble sons, all that the Lord had given her to love, borne to the tomb.

They lay side by side in our burying ground, and every morning and evening she went there and, sitting on a log of wood which she had rolled close to the gravestones, moved her lips constantly, not in prayer--no, I have listened often when she did not know I was near--no; she talked to the dead, as though they could hear her in the sepulchre, and understand her words like those who walk alive beneath the sun.