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Rh been light some time," thought Emily; and shame and regret, at having wasted in fear and folly hours so sacred, so precious, smote upon her inmost heart. Seated in an arm-chair, with her back to the light, her companion was soon again sleeping; and Emily, kneeling beside the coffin, looked for the last time on her uncle. Deep as may be the regret, though the lost be the dearest, nay, the only tie that binds to earth, never did the most passionate grief give way to its emotion in the presence of the dead. Awe is stronger than sorrow: there is a calm, which, though we do not share, we dare not disturb: the chill of the grave is around them and us.—I have heard of the beauty of the dead: it existed in none that I have seen. The unnatural blue tinge which predominates in the skin and lips; the eyes closed, but so evidently not in sleep—in rigidity, not repose; the set features, stern almost to reproof; the contraction, the drawn shrunk look about the nose and mouth; the ghastly thin hands,—Life, the animator, the beautifier—the marvel is not, how thou couldst depart, but how ever thou couldst animate this strange and fearful