side of the grave.

During the latter part of the preparation of his discourse, the chaplain
had felt keenly in what a difficult position he was placed in regard to
the deceased. Since his engagement with Madeleine, his first duty was to
be strictly impartial, and not to allow himself to be led into any
flattering expressions, which would be quite out of place from the lips
of one who had, in point of fact, become one of the family.

The dean had, in his discourse in the church, dwelt entirely on the
merits of the deceased, as a fellow-citizen and as a good man of
business, who had, almost like a father, found daily bread for hundreds,
and who had shed happiness and prosperity all around him. The chaplain
began his address as follows:--

"My sorrowing friends, when we look into this grave--six feet long and
six feet deep, when we look at this dark coffin, when we think of this
body which is going to decay, we naturally, my dear friends, say to
ourselves, 'Here lies a man of riches, of great riches.' But let us
search the depths of our own hearts. For where is now the glitter of
that wealth which dazzles the eyes of so many? Where is now the
influence which to us, short-sighted mortals, appears to attach to
earthly prosperity? Here in this dark tomb, six feet long and six feet
deep, it is buried from our sight.

"Oh, my friends! let us learn the lesson which is taught by this silent
tomb. Here all is finished, here is the end of all inequality, which is,
after all, but the result of sin. Here, in the calm peace of the
churchyard, they rest side by side, rich and poor, high and low, all
alike before the majesty of death. All that is perishable on earth is
swept aside like a used garment. Six feet of earth, that is all; it is
the same for each one of us."

The gentle spring breeze breathed on the silk banners of the various
guilds, lifting the heavy folds out from the staff, and making a glad
rustle in the silk. And the same breeze also carried the words over the
cemetery, to the old crones who were sitting on the tombstones, and the
girls and women who were grouped along the slope. Yes, even to the far
distant edge of the cemetery did the wind bear the eloquent discourse,
so that the words could be distinctly heard at the grave in which
Marianne was about to be laid. And those words about equality and the
evanescence of worldly wealth, were indeed words of comfort for the
poor, as well as for the rich. But those who