imer said to me after I
got news of the will, 'Why, Mis' Patton, you don't suppose your friends
would ever have let you want!' And I says, 'My friends are kind,--the
Lord bless 'em!--but I feel better to be able to do for myself than to
be beholden.'"

After this long call we went down to the post-office, and coming home
stopped for a while in the old burying-ground, which we had noticed the
day before; and we sat for the first time on the great stone in the
wall, in the shade of a maple-tree, where we so often waited afterward
for the stage to come with the mail, or rested on our way home from a
walk. It was a comfortable perch; we used to read our letters there, I
remember.

I must tell you a little about the Deephaven burying-ground, for its
interest was inexhaustible, and I do not know how much time we may have
spent in reading the long epitaphs on the grave-stones and trying to
puzzle out the inscriptions, which were often so old and worn that we
could only trace a letter here and there. It was a neglected corner of
the world, and there were straggling sumachs and acacias scattered about
the enclosure, while a row of fine old elms marked the boundary of two
sides. The grass was long and tangled, and most of the stones leaned one
way or the other, and some had fallen flat. There were a few handsome
old family monuments clustered in one corner, among which the one that
marked Miss Brandon's grave looked so new and fresh that it seemed
inappropriate. "It should have been dingy to begin with, like the rest,"
said Kate one day; "but I think it will make itself look like its
neighbors as soon as possible."

There were many stones which were sacred to the memory of men who had
been lost at sea, almost always giving the name of the departed ship,
which was so kept in remembrance; and one felt as much interest in the
ship Starlight, supposed to have foundered off the Cape of Good Hope, as
in the poor fellow who had the ill luck to be one of her crew. There
were dozens of such inscriptions, and there were other stones
perpetuating the fame of Honourable gentlemen who had been members of
His Majesty's Council, or surveyors of His Majesty's Woods, or King's
Officers of Customs for the town of Deephaven. Some of the epitaphs were
beautiful, showing that tenderness for the friends who had died, that
longing to do them justice, to fully acknowledge their virtues and
dearness, which is so touching, and so unmistakable even unde