n resemblance. When one we love dies, we hope to
see them in another state, and half expect that the agency of mind will
inform its new garb in imitation of its decayed earthly vesture. But these
are ideas of the mind only. We know that the instrument is shivered, the
sensible image lies in miserable fragments, dissolved to dusty nothingness;
a look, a gesture, or a fashioning of the limbs similar to the dead in a
living person, touches a thrilling chord, whose sacred harmony is felt in
the heart's dearest recess. Strangely moved, prostrate before this spectral
image, and enslaved by the force of blood manifested in likeness of look
and movement, I remained trembling in the presence of the harsh, proud, and
till now unloved mother of Idris.

Poor, mistaken woman! in her tenderest mood before, she had cherished the
idea, that a word, a look of reconciliation from her, would be received
with joy, and repay long years of severity. Now that the time was gone for
the exercise of such power, she fell at once upon the thorny truth of
things, and felt that neither smile nor caress could penetrate to the
unconscious state, or influence the happiness of her who lay in the vault
beneath. This conviction, together with the remembrance of soft replies to
bitter speeches, of gentle looks repaying angry glances; the perception of
the falsehood, paltryness and futility of her cherished dreams of birth and
power; the overpowering knowledge, that love and life were the true
emperors of our mortal state; all, as a tide, rose, and filled her soul
with stormy and bewildering confusion. It fell to my lot, to come as the
influential power, to allay the fierce tossing of these tumultuous waves. I
spoke to her; I led her to reflect how happy Idris had really been, and how
her virtues and numerous excellencies had found scope and estimation in her
past career. I praised her, the idol of my heart's dear worship, the
admired type of feminine perfection. With ardent and overflowing eloquence,
I relieved my heart from its burthen, and awoke to the sense of a new
pleasure in life, as I poured forth the funeral eulogy. Then I referred to
Adrian, her loved brother, and to her surviving child. I declared, which I
had before almost forgotten, what my duties were with regard to these
valued portions of herself, and bade the melancholy repentant mother
reflect, how she could best expiate unkindness towards the dead, by
redoubled love of the survivors. Consol