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send a servant for Mr. Brooks (an old friend of the family), whom she knew Mrs. Parkinson would wish to take charge of the funeral. At the foot of the stairs she met the physician, who, by her pale cheeks, and by the tears that streamed from her eyes at sight of him, saw that all was over. He pressed her hand in sympathy; and perceiving that she was unable to answer his questions, he bowed and left the house..

In a short time Mr. Brooks arrived; and Mrs. Parkinson declaring herself incompetent to the task, Fanny saw the gentleman, and requested him to make every necessary arrangement for a plain but respectable funeral.

At such times, how every little circumstance seems to add a new pang to the agonized feelings of the bereaved family. The closing of the window-shutters, the arrival of the woman whose gloomy business it is to prepare the corpse for interment, the undertaker coming to take measure for the coffin, the removal of the bedding on which the deceased has expired, the gliding step, and half-whispered directions-all these sad indications that death is in the house, fail not, however quietly and carefully managed, to reach the ears and hearts of afflicted relatives, assisted by the intuitive knowledge of what is so well understood to be passing at these melancholy moments.

In the evening, after Louisa had cried herself to sleep, Fanny repaired to the apartment of her sister-in-law, whom about an hour before she had left exhausted and passive. Mrs. Parkinson was extended on the bed, pale and silent; her daughters Isabella and Helen were in tears beside her; and Frederick had retired to his room.

In the fauteuil, near the head of the bed, sat Mrs: Bleden, who, in the days of their prosperity, had been the next door neighbour of the Parkinson family, and who still continued to favour them with frequent visits. She was one of those busy people, who seem almost to verify the justly-censured maxim of Rochefoucault, that "in the misfortunes of our best friends there is always something which is pleasing to us."

True it was, that Mrs. Bleden being a woman of great leisure, and of a disposition extremely officious, devoted most of her time and attention to the concerns of others; and any circumstances that prevented her associates from acting immediately for themselves, of course threw open a wider field for her interference.

"And now, my dear friends," said Mrs. Bleden, squeezing Mrs. Parkinson's hand, and looking at Fanny, who seated herself in an opposite chair, "as the funeral is to take place ou

Thursday, you know there is no time to be lost. What have you fixed on respecting your mourning? I will cheerfully attend to it for you, and bespeak everything necessary."

At the words "funeral" and mourning," tears gushed again from the eyes of the distressed family; and neither Mrs, Parkinson nor Fanny could command themselves sufficiently to reply.

"Come my dear creatures," continued Mrs. Bleden, "you must really make an effort to compose yourselves. Just try to be calm for a few minutes, till we have settled this business. Tell me what I shall order for you. However, there is but one rule on these occasions-crape and bombazine, and every thing of the best. Nothing, you know, is more disreputable than mean mourning.'

"I fear then," replied Mrs. Parkinson," that our mourning attire must be mean enough. The situation in which we are left, will not allow us to go to any unnecessary expense in that, or in any thing else. We had but little to live upon-we could lay by nothing. We have nothing beforehand: we did not -we could not apprehend that this dreadful event was so near. And you know that his salary-that Mr. Parkinson's salary, of course, expires with him."

"So I supposé, my dear friend," answered Mrs. Bleden; "but you know you must have mourning; and as the funeral takes place so soon, there will be little enough time to order it, and have it made."

"We will borrow dresses to wear at the to wear on Thursday," said Mrs. Parkinson.

"And of whom will you borrow ?"

"I do not know. I have not yet thought.'

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The Greens family are in black," observed Isabella; "no doubt they would lend us dresses."

"Oh! none of their things will fit you at all," exclaimed Mrs. Bleden. "None of the Greens have the least resemblance to any of you, either in height or figure. You would look perfectly ridiculous in their things."

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"Then there are Mrs. Patterson and her daughters," said Helen.

"The Pattersons," replied Mrs. Bleden, "are just going to leave off black; and nothing that they have looks either new or fresh. You know how soon black becomes rusty. You certainly would feel very much mortified, if you had to make a shabby appearance at Mr. Parkinson's funeral. Besides, nobody now wears borrowed mourning-it can always be detected

in a moment. No-with a little exertion-and I repeat that I am willing to do all in my power-there is time enough to provide the whole family with genteel and proper mourning suits. And as you must get them at last, it is certainly much better to have them at first, so as to appear handsomely at the funeral."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Parkinson, sighing," at such a time, what consequence can we possibly attach to our external appearance? How can we for a moment think of it?"

"To be sure, my dear friend," said Mrs. Bleden, kissing her, "you have had a very severe loss-very severe indeed. It is really quite irreparable; and I can sincerely sympathize in your feelings. Certainly every body ought to feel on these occasions; but you know it is impossible to devote every moment between this and the funeral to tears and sobs. One cannot be crying all the time-nobody ever does. And, as to the mourning, that is of course indispensable, and a thing that must be."

Mrs. Parkinson wept bitterly. "I cannot discuss it now."

"Indeed! indeed!" said she,

"And if it is not settled to-night," resumed Mrs. Bleden, "there will be hardly time to-morrow to talk it over, and get the things, and send to the mantua-maker's and milliner's. You had better get it off your mind at once. Suppose you leave it entirely to me. I attended to all the mourning for the Greens, and the Weldons, and the Nortons. It is a business I am quite used to. I pique myself on being rather clever at it."

"I will then trust to your judgment," replied Mrs. Parkinson, anxious to get rid of the subject, and of the light frivolous prattle of her soi-disant dear friend. "Be kind, enough to undertake it, and procure for us whatever you think suitableonly let it not be too expensive."

"As to that," answered Mrs. Bleden, 66 crape is crape, and bombazine is bombazine; and as everybody likes to have these articles of good quality, nothing otherwise is now used for mourning. With regard to Frederick's black suit, Mr. Watson will send to take his measure, and there will be no further difficulty about it. Let me see-there must be bombazine for five dresses: that is, for yourself, three daughters, and Miss Fanny.'

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"Not for me," said Fanny, taking her handkerchief from her eyes. “I shal not have a bombazine."

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"My dear creature!" cried Mrs. Bleden ; not get a bombazine? You astonish me! What else can you possibly have? Black gingham or black chintz is only fit for wrappers; and black silk is no mourning at all."

"I shall wear do mourning," replied Fanny, with a deep sigh.

"Not wear mourning!" ejaculated Mrs. Bleden.

"What,

no mourning at all! Not wear mourning for your own brother! Now you do indeed surprise me."

Mrs. Parkinson and her daughters were also surprised; and they withdrew their handkerchiefs from their eyes, and gazed on Fanny, as if scarcely believing that they had understood her rightly.

"I have considered it well," resumed Miss Parkinson; "and I have come to a conclusion to make no change in my dress. In short, to wear no mourning, even for my brother-well as I have loved him, and deeply as I feel his loss."

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"This is very strange,' said Mrs. Parkinson.

"Excuse

me, Miss Fanny," said Mrs. Bleden, "but have you no respect for his memory? He was certainly an excellent man."

"Respect for his memory!" exclaimed Fanny, bursting into tears. "Yes! I indeed respect his memory! And were he still living, there is nothing on earth I would not cheerfully do for him, if I thought it would contribute to his happiness or comfort. But he is now in a land where all the forms and ceremonies of this world are of no avail; and where everything that speaks to the senses only, must appear like the mimic trappings of a theatre. With him all is now awful reality. To the decaying inhabitant of the narrow and gloomy grave, or to the disembodied spirit that has ascended to its Father in heaven, of what consequence is the colour that distinguishes the dress of those whose mourning is deep in the heart? What to him is the livery that fashion has assigned to grief, when he knows how intense is the feeling itself, in the sorrowing bosoms of the family that loved him so well."

"but

"All this is very true," remarked Mrs. Bleden; still custom is everything, or fashion, as you are pleased to call it. You know you are not a quaker; and therefore I do not see how you can possibly venture to go without mourning on such an occasion as this. Surely you would not set the usages of the world at defiance."

"I would not," replied Fanny, "in things of minor importance; but on this subject I believe I can be firm."

"I hope," observed Mrs. Bleden, looking very serious, there can be no reason to doubt Miss Fanny's affection for her brother?"

"Oh! no! no! no!" cried the two girls indignantly. "If you had only seen," said Isabella, "how she nursed my dear father in his illness-how she was with him day and night." "How much she always loved him," said Helen.

66 My dear kind sister," said Mrs. Parkinson, taking the hand of Fanny, "I hope I shall never again see you distressed by such an intimation."

Mrs. Bleden reddened, looked down, and attentively examined the embroidered corners of her pocket handkerchief. There was a silence of a few moments, till Fanny, making an effort to speak with composure, proceeded to explain herself.

"My brother," said she," has finished his mortal existence. No human power, no human love, can aid him or soothe him now; and we will endeavour to submit with resignation to the will of Omnipotence. I hope-I trust we shall be able to do so; but the shock is yet too recent, and we cannot at once subdue the feelings of nature. It is dreadful to see the lifeless remains of one we have long and dearly loved, removed from our sight for ever, and consigned to the darkness and loneliness of the grave. For my part, on this sad occasion, I feel an utter repugnance to the idea of becoming an object of curiosity to the spectators that gaze from the windows, and to the vulgar and noisy crowd that assembles about a burying-ground, when an interment is to take place. I cannot expose my tears, my deep affliction, to the comments of the multitude; and I cannot have my feelings outraged by perhaps overhearing their coarse remarks. I may be too fastidious-I may be wrong; but to be present at the funeral of my brother is an effort I cannot resolve to make. And, moreover-"

Here her voice for a few moments became inarticulate, and her sister and nieces sobbed audibly.

"And then," she continued, 66 I cannot stand beside that open grave-I cannot see the coffin let down into it, and the earth thrown upon the lid till it is covered up for ever. I cannot indeed I cannot. In the seclusion of my own apartment, I shall, of course, know that all this is going on, and I shall suffer most acutely; but there will be no strangers to witness my sufferings. It is a dreadful custom, that of females attending the funerals of their nearest relatives. I wish it were entirely abolished, as it is in many parts of Europe."

"But you know" said Mrs. Bleden, "that it is almost

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