ures; she smiled again, and
then the people said, 'She is dead.' She was placed in a black box;
there she lay covered with white linen; she was very beautiful, and
yet her eyes were closed, but every wrinkle had vanished; she lay
there with a smile about her mouth; her hair was silver white,
venerable, but it did not frighten one to look upon the corpse, for
it was indeed the dear, kind-hearted grandmother. The hymn book was
placed under her head--this she had herself desired; the rose lay
in the old book; and then they buried grandmother.

Upon the grave, close by the church wall, a rose tree was planted;
it was full of roses, and the nightingale flew singing over the
flowers and the grave. Within the church, there resounded from the
organ the most beautiful hymns, which were in the old book under
the head of the dead one. The moon shone down upon the grave, but
the dead was not there; each child could go there quietly by night
and pluck a rose from the peaceful courtyard wall. The dead know
more than all of us living ones; they are better than we. The earth
is heaped up over the coffin, even within the coffin there is
earth; the leaves of the hymn book are dust, and the rose, with all
its memories. But above bloom fresh roses; above, the nightingale
sings, and the organ tones forth; above, the memory of the old
grandmother lives, with her mild, ever young eyes. Eyes can never
die. Ours will one day see the grandmother again, young and
blooming as when she for the first time kissed the fresh red rose,
which is now dust in the grave.'

'THE CELL PRISON.

'By separation from other men, by loneliness, in continual silence
shall the criminal be punished and benefited; on this account cell
prisons are built. In Sweden there are many such, and new ones are
building. I visited for the first time one in Marienstadt. The
building lies in a beautiful landscape, close by the town, on a
small stream of water, like a great villa, white and smiling, with
window upon window. But one soon discovers that the stillness of
the grave rests over the place; it seems as if no one dwelt here,
or as if it were a dwelling forsaken during the plague. The gates
of these walls are locked; but one opened and the jailor received
us, with his bundle of keys in his hand. T