A second occasion of sharing her sorrowful emotion was repeated several times every summer.

This was the visit to the cemetery, which she rarely made alone.
The visits impressed us all strongly, and the one I first remember could not have occurred later than my fifth year, for I distinctly recollect that Frau Rapp's horses took us to the churchyard.

My father was buried in the Dreifaltigkeitskirchhof,--[Trinity churchyard]--just outside the Halle Gate.

I found it so little changed when I entered it again, two years ago, that I could walk without a guide directly to the Ebers family vault.

But what a transformation had taken place in the way! When we visited it with my mother, which was always in carriages, for it was a long distance from our home, we drove quickly through the city, the gate, and as far as the spot where I found the stately pile of the brick Kreuzkirche; then we turned to the right, and if we had come in cabs we children got out, it was so hard for the horses to drag the vehicles over the sandy road which led to the cemetery.
During this walk we gathered blue cornflowers and scarlet poppies from the fields, bluebells, daisies, ranunculus, and snapdragon from the narrow border of turf along the roadside, and tied them into bouquets for the graves.