The picturesque pocket companion, and visitor's guide, through Mount Auburn

“ Then you heard the minister say, that my mother would come up out of this grave,” said little William.

“I did.”

“It is true, is it not?” asked he, in a tone of confidence.

“I most firmly believe it,” said I.

“Believe it,” said the child-“believe it — I thought you knew it — I know it.”

“How do you know it, my dear?”

“The minister said, that as true as the grass would grow up, and the flowers bloom in spring, so true would my mother rise. I came a few days afterward, and planted flower-seed on the grave. The grass came green in this burying-ground long ago; and I watched every day for the flowers, and to-day they have come up too-see them breaking through the ground!-by and by mammy will come again.”

A smile of exulting hope played on the features of the boy; and I felt pained at disturbing the faith and confidence with which he was animated.

“But, my little child,” said I, “it is not here that your poor mother will rise.”

“Yes, here,” said he, with emphasis-“here they placed her, and here I have come ever since the first blade of grass was green this year.”

I looked around, and saw that the tiny feet of the child had trod out the herbage at the grave-side, so constant had been his attendance. What a faithful watch-keeper!-What mother would desire a richer