Then we came to a short grave, only as long as your baby brother. There was a piece of wood at the head of it, and painted on it were the simple words, "OUR JAMIE."
Lying on the grass which grew over it, was a tiny red shoe—the toe all sucked just as little babies love to suck their shoes; and tied to the end of the string were four large buttons. I wanted to stop there, and think about the dear babe who had so early been called to its home in the skies; but a young woman came up, and snatching the little shoe began to kiss it and weep over it.
"That is the mother," said our guide; and so we turned away that we might not intrude on her grief.
We walked slowly on, for our hearts ached for the weeping mother, and presently the guide led us up quite a steep path, to a family tomb built in the side of the hill. The door leading down the steps was in front; but it did not look at all like a place for the dead. It looked far more like a child's play-house. There were posts at the four corners of the yard, and an iron chain running from one to another. Opposite the door to the tomb was a gate from which a walk led into the yard. It was not covered with gravel like the others, but with little round pebbles from the seashore, mingled with sparkling shells. On one side was a large rocking-horse, which had been out so long in the rain and storm, that the saddle was damp with mildew, and the paint was quite washed off the rockers.
On the other side of the walk was a small wheelbarrow, half full of little pebbles.
"Do you know who is buried here?" I asked the guide.
"We must walk along," he said hurriedly, without answering my question. "There's a funeral coming up this path."
I was sorry to go away, for I wanted to hear about the little boy or girl who had been called away from its toys. I wanted to ask whether the child had loved God, and had gone to live with the Saviour; but there was no time, now. We turned off into a side path, and then after the procession of mourners had passed on, we followed to an open grave where a child was to be buried.
We all stood back while the men lowered the small coffin into the ground, and then I ventured near and looked down the narrow vault. I thought of the time when my little babe was buried from my sight, and the tears flowed down my cheeks.
"Did you ever lose a child?" sobbed a woman near me, catching hold of my arm.