brings hope as well
as health on its wings. It was on such a morning a little funeral
procession entered the gateway of the ruined church at Kellester, and
wound its way towards an obscure corner where an open grave was seen.
With the exception of one solitary individual, it was easy to perceive
that they who followed the coffin were either the hired mourners, or
some stray passers-by indulging a sad curiosity in listlessness. It was
poor Kellett's corpse was borne along, with Conway walking after it.

The mournful task over, and the attendants gone, Conway lingered about
among the graves, now reading the sad records of surviving affection,
now stopping to listen to the high-soaring lark whose shrill notes
vibrated in the thin air. "Poor Jack!" thought he, aloud; "he little
knows the sad office I have had this morning. He always was talking
of home and coming back again, and telling his dear father of all his
campaigning adventures; and so much for anticipation--beneath that
little mound of earth lies all that made the Home he dreamed of! He's
almost the last of the Albueras," said he, as he stood over the grave;
and at the same time a stranger drew near the spot, and, removing his
hat, addressed him by name. "Ah! Mr. Dunn, I think?" said Conway.

"Yes,"-said the other; "I regret to see that I am too late. I wished to
pay the last tribute of respect to our poor friend, but unfortunately
all was over when I arrived."

"You knew him intimately, I believe?" said Conway.

"From boyhood," said Dunn, coughing, to conceal some embarrassment. "Our
families were intimate; but of him, personally, I saw little: he went
abroad with his regiment, and when he returned, it was to live in a
remote part of the country, so that we seldom met."

"Poor fellow!" muttered Conway, "he does seem to have been well-nigh
forgotten by every one. I was alone here this morning."

"Such is life!" said Dunn.

"But such ought not death to be," rejoined Conway. "A gallant old
soldier might well have been followed to his last billet by a few
friends or comrades; but he was poor, and that explains all!"

"That is a harsh judgment for one so young as you are."

"No: if poor Kellett had fallen in battle, he had gone to his grave
with every honor to his memory; but he lived on in a world where other
qualities than a soldier's are valued, and he was forgotten,--that's the
whole of it!"

"We must think of the daughter now; something must be done fo