366 



CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



From my window I saw one morning a sight which, 

 touching as it was, had in it much of beauty. It was 

 the funeral of a little child. I had heard the chanting 

 of the mourning train, and on looking into the street 

 discovered whence it came. The young child lay in 

 the open coffin, which was carried in the arms of a 

 man ; its placid face uncovered, and nothing between 

 it and the blue heaven. All around it were flowers, 

 on its pillow and on both sides ; and its pretty hands 

 too were embedded on roses, buds as tender as itself. 

 I had never seen Death arrayed so winningly. 



