BE TRUE. 19

micil. Voices, many voices, ewhich
had been hushed in death for years,
had echoed through those sombre
rooms, and up and down the garden
walks. The oldest inhabitant re-
membered Mr. Wingate’s grandfa-
ther; others, less advanced in life’s
journey, remembered his father, and
himself as alittle boy. But with his
youth and manhood many were ac-
quainted. His first marriage was
well remembered; nor™had the me-
mory of the amiable woman whose
smile was once the sunshine of that
old mansion faded from the minds,
even of the young. But she was
dead—dead! Ah! how much of
earthly sorrow is garnered up in that
one little word! The wife—the mo-
ther—the friend—dead! What a
world is ours! Thanks for a light