What if our ears be shocked by profane jests on the weight of your burden, as you bear away from the accustomed mansion, what was its light and its load star-but what is-pent up in your dark, narrow tenement, but

"A heap,

To make men tremble, that never weep."

What! if our swimming eye-as we follow those dear-dear remains to their last lone resting place-glance on the heartless myrmidons, who salute the passer by with nods of recognition, and smiles of indifference?

What! if, returning homewards--choked with bitter recollections, which rise fantastic, quick, and ill-defined-the very ghosts of departed scenes and years-what if we start as we then perceive you— lightsome of heart, and glib of speech-clustered and smirking, on that roof of nodding plumes— neath which, one short hour since-lay what was dearest to us on earth?

Let us not heed these things! for-light as is the task to traders in death's dark trappings; painful and soul-subduing are those

withering details to the grieving and heart-struck mourner!

We left George lying half insensible by the side of his dead wife.

Sir Henry and Thompson carried him to the apartment of the former, and while Thompson hung over his master, attempting to restore consciousness-Delmé had a short conference with Doctor Pormont as to their ulterior proceedings.

Doctor Pormont--as might be expected-enjoined the greatest promptitude, and recommended that poor Acmé's remains, should be consigned to the burial place of the hamlet.

George's objections to this, however, as soon as he was well enough to comprehend what was going forward, seemed quite insurmountable; and after Sir Henry had sought the place by moonlight, and found it wild and open, with goats browsing on the unpicturesque graves, and with nothing to mark the sanctity of the spot, save a glaring painted picture of the Virgin, his own prejudices became enlisted, and he consented to proceed to Rome.

After this decision was made, he found it utterly

impossible, to procure a separate conveyance for the corpse; and was equally unsuccessful in his attempt to procure that--which from being a common want, he had been disposed to consider of every day attainment-a coffin.

While his brother made what arrangements he best might, poor George returned to the chamber of death, and gazed long and fixedly-with the despair of the widower-on those hushed familiar features.

Her hair was now turned back, and was bound with white ribbon, and festooned with some of the very water lilies that Acmé had admired. A snowwhite wreath bound her brow. It was formed of the white convolvulus. We have said the features were familiar; but oh! how different! The yellow waxen hue—the heavy stiffened lid-how they affected George Delmé, who had never looked on death before!

First he would gaze with stupid awe—then turn to the window, and attempt to repress his sobsreturn again—and refuse to credit his bereavement. Surely the hand moved? No! of its free will.

shall it never move more! The eye! was there not a slight convulsion in that long dark lash?

No! over it may crawl the busy fly, and creep the destructive worm, without let, and without

hindrance!

No finger shall be raised in its behalf-that lid shall remain closed and passive!

The insect and the reptile shall extend their wanderings over the smooth cheek, and revel on the lips, whose red once rivalled that of the Indian shell.

Moveless! moveless shall all be!

The long-long night wore on.

An Italian sunrise was gilding the heavens.

Acmé was never to see a sunrise more; and even this reflection-trite as it may seem, occurring to one, who had watched through the night, by the side of the dead-even this reflection, convulsed again the haggard features of the mourner.

Delmé had made the requisite arrangements during the night, for their early departure.

Just previous to the carriage being announced, he led George out of the room; whilst the physi

cian, aided by the women, took such precautions as the heat of the climate rendered necessary.

Linen cloths, steeped in a solution of chlorate of lime, were closely wound round the body-a rude couch was placed in the inside of the carriage, which was supported by the two seats-and the carriage itself was darkened.

These preparations concluded-and having parted with Doctor Pormont-whose attentions, in spite of his freezing manner, had been very great—the brothers commenced their painful task.

George knelt at the head of the corpse-ejaculated one short fervent prayer-and then, assisted by his brother, bore it in his arms to the vehicle.

The Italian peasants, with rare delicacy, witnessed the scene from the windows of the inn, but did not intrude their presence.

The body was placed crosswise in the carriage. George sat next the corpse. Delmé sat opposite, regarding his brother with anxious eye.

Most distressing was that silent journey! It made an impression on Sir Henry's mind, that no after events could ever efface; and yet it had al