LITTLE JAKE i;r 
there the great forest fire left its mark, but even here 
the grass is springing up fresh and green, and the 
fern fronds are showing their curled tips ; vegetation 
springs up like magic from the warm earth moistened 
by a few showers. The heather makes a good couch, 
and, as I lie resting here for a while, the sound of a 
sweet chime of bells comes up from far below me. 
The day was drawing to a close when I reached the 
churchyard in a valley. I was looking for a little 
grave, that of a child who had been a favourite with 
me in the woodlands some years ago. 
' That is the one, sir, with the flowers all over it,' a 
little girl replied to my question. She was passing 
through on her way home from school. Looking 
shyly up at me, she added, ' Did you know him ? he 
used to come to our school.' 
' Yes, my dear, I did know him, and I have come 
from a distance to look at his grave.' 
She surveyed me in an artless, pretty fashion, as 
only a child can ; then, bidding me good-bye, passed 
on, leaving me to muse beside the flowers. The 
place was quiet and full 'of repose, as befitted a last 
resting-place ; and I stood there for some time 
dreaming of the past, and living over again scenes 
which had left good pleasant memories behind. 
' Ay, 'tis the best we can do for him,' says a voice 
