"That's my sister, the little girl I mean," said Rufus, "The other is a friend who looks after her. I have to support her; but that's only one, while you have five."
"She looks like a nice little girl. She is about the size of my oldest girl."
"She's a dear little sister," said the newsboy, warmly. "I should feel very lonely without her."
He little thought as he spoke that the loneliness to which he referred was speedily to come upon him. But we will not anticipate.
They got out at the entrance of the cemetery, and entered the grounds. Greenwood Cemetery, of which all my readers have probably heard, is very extensive, the grounds comprising over three hundred acres. It is situated about two and a half miles from the South Ferry, on what is now known as Gowanus Heights. Its elevated position enables it to command charming views of the bay and harbor of New York; with its islands and forts, the twin cities of New York and Brooklyn, the New Jersey shore, the long lines of city wharves, with their forests of masts, and an extensive view of the ocean. The numerous and beautiful trees crowning the elevations, the costly monuments, the winding paths, so intersecting each other as almost to make a labyrinth, render this a charming spot, and death assumes a less repulsive aspect amid such surroundings.
"How beautiful it is!" said Miss Manning, gazing about her thoughtfully. "I have never been here before."
"I never came but once," said the newsboy, "and that was a good while ago."
Little Rose was charmed, and darted first into one path, then into another, and was about to pluck some flowers, until she was told that this was against the regulations.
"What a lot of dead people live here!" she said, as from a little height they saw white stones and monuments rising on every side.
"She has used the right word, after all, Rufus," said Miss Manning; "for death is only the introduction to another life. I sometimes think that those whose bodies lie here are not wholly insensible to the beauty by which they are surrounded."