I shall never forget the impression that solemn scene made on my mind.

My first ideas of death and decay were formed whilst standing beside my mother's grave.

There my heart received its first life-lesson; and owned its first acquaintanceship with grief--the _ideal_ vanished, and the hard, uncompromising _real_ took its place.
After the funeral was over, I accompanied my Uncle Robert to his house in Hatton Garden.

At the door we parted with Mr.Walters, and many years elapsed, before I saw his face again..