A grey-headed and feeble old man was standing near the grave,
leaning with his two hands on a staff, and with his head depressed.
He wept aloud, when the clergyman mentioned Amelia's name, as he
prayed, and gave thanks to God. He then stooped down, and taking a
little earth in his hand, said, as he scattered it over the coffin:
"Sleep, sweet messenger of consolation! Sleep, until He whom thy lips
first proclaimed to me, calls thee to arise!" And with this, he burst
into tears, as they filled the grave.
When all was finished, and the funeral procession had departed, the
poor people who were present approached the grave, sobbing, and
repeating, "Sweet messenger of goodness! Our kind friend, our
_true_ mother!" And two or three of the children placed upon her
grave nosegays of box and white flowers.
"Alas," said a young girl, "she will never hear me read the Bible
again, nor instruct me how to live!"
Another cried loudly, "Who will now come to visit my sick mother,
and read the Bible to her, and bring her comfort and assistance."
And there was a father, a poor workman, with two little boys, who,
holding his children by the hand, came and placed himself near the
spot where the head of Amelia was laid, saying to them, "Here, my
poor children, under this sod, rests that sweet countenance which
used to smile upon you, as if she had been your mother! Her lips have
often told you, that you were not orphans, and that God was better to
you than a parent.
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