LOVE AND ANGLING. 



229 



shadows one side of the place ; swallows are 

 skating and scooting so close to the grass, 

 that it is a wonder how they do not knock 

 their heads against the tombs ; and look, from 

 yonder gate a procession enters, a coffin, the 

 dimensions of a violin-case, it is to be put (I 

 imagine) next a full-grown great-grandfatherly 

 74. The little creature within it never spoke, 

 and knew nothing of the world which it could 

 scarce be said to have gone out of, and yet, in 

 the heart of that poor woman wrapped in the 

 cloak it will be growing, day by day, a beauti- 

 ful baby, more beautiful than any other she 

 meets, an infant learning to greet her with 

 sweet unconscious surprises, a boy, a girl, 

 more loveable than living boys and girls. 

 There is a myth, a kind humane fancy, that 

 little children will blossom to maturity when 

 transplanted above, and that the mothers who 

 have lost them will find them again noble 

 and strong, perfect and ready to greet those 

 in whose bosoms they have rested even for an 

 hour. 



The violin-case is lowered away. Caw, caw, 

 croak the sensible birds in the elms, and the 



