"I did not mean to bring you here," said Preston, "I did not know I was bringing you here. Come, Daisy—we'll go and try again."
"Oh stop!" I said—"I like it. I want to look at it."
"It is the cemetery," said Preston. "That tall column is the monument of our great—no, of our great-great-grandfather; and this brown one is for mamma's father. Come, Daisy!——"
"Wait a little," I said. "Whose is that with the vase on top?"
"Vase?" said Preston—"it's an urn. It is an urn, Daisy. People do not put vases on tombstones."
I asked what the difference was.
"The difference? O Daisy, Daisy! Why vases are to put flowers in; and urns—I'll tell you, Daisy,—I believe it is because
the Romans used to burn the bodies of their friends and gather up the ashes and keep them in a funeral urn. So an urn comes to be appropriate to a tombstone."
"I do not see how," I said.
"Why because an urn comes to be an emblem of mortality and all that. Come, Daisy; let us go."