216 PEARLS AND PEBBLES. 



has forsaken. Gently does it wrap up the ashes of the 

 dead, wreathing like a laurel crown the cold damp brow 

 with its interlacing roots, drawing down to the darkness 

 and solitude of the grave the warm bright' sunshine and 

 blessed dews of heaven." 



There is many an unknown grave in Canada long 

 deserted and forgotten. In the early days of the colony 

 the settlers were wont to bury their -dead in some spot 

 set apart as a family burying-ground. There was little 

 attention paid to the rites of religion, and little ceremony, 

 for the dwellers were few, and their houses often far 

 apart — some on the banks of lonely forest streams, 

 others near the great lakes, and some deep-seated in the 

 heart of the woods. 



A prayer, maybe a hymn or psalm, a mother's tears, 

 and then the grass and wild-flowers took possession of 

 the grave and hallowed it. Rude was the soil and 

 lonely the spot — a rough rail enclosure, a surface stone 

 to mark where lay the sleeper, or a cross of wood, or a 

 name rudely cut upon the living bark of some adjacent 

 tree, the sole memorial of the dead. 



The lands have passed away from the families of the 

 first breakers of the soil, and the peaceful dead are 

 neglected in their , lonely, unmarked resting-places, 

 forgotten by man, but not uncared for by Redeeming 

 Love. 



