OF THE FOREST. 103

On tne white pall lay the faded garland of
the lily of the valley ; an affecting emblem of
her who had plucked those flowers and woven
that garland; affecting to all, yet how much
more so to me, who so well remembered the
gay delight of the beloved Aimée when she
had obtained the object of her innocent and
elegant desires—an emblem consecrated by
Holy Writ, which says, “As for man, his
days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so
he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it,
and it is gone; and the place thereof shall
know it no more,” Psalm ciii. 15, 16. No
eye looked up when I approached the altar,
though all, as I afterwards found, had been
aware of my presence. I came up near to
the coffin at the moment when the last note
of the requiem was dying away along the
vaulted aisles, and at the same instant Ma-
dame la Baronne came forward with the
myrtle crown in her hand. The garland had
been formed of perishable materials, but not
so the crown—as compared with the garland
of lilies, at least, it was imperishable—it was
fresh and fair as it had first appeared ; it thus
formed a beautiful emblem of that crown of
glory which fadeth not away; and it was an