GLEANING.

WHEN the harvests are garnered, the gleaners go forth to gather up the yet scattered ears, from which to prepare for themselves and their families a little entertainment.

I now go forth as a gleaner, that I may here gather up for myself and my readers, what has yet to be told of the characters of our story, and merely to bring all to a good ending.

We will, therefore, in the first place, glance forward into futurity.

There is in Gothland a good old custom of paying particular attention to the graves. Every Saturday evening, sometimes even during the week, people may be seen, in the grave-yards which surround the churches in Gothland, decorating the graves of their beloved friends with flowers, arranged

in various graceful devices. Parents, children, brothers and sisters come and clothe with beauty the last sleeping places of those who are dear to them. And the graves which no beloved hands any longer adorn, are generally entrusted to the care of an old woman, whose duty it is to keep them clear of weeds, and every Saturday evening to strew them with flowers, like a holiday garment; and this she does with religious fidelity, because they are now her children, and their graves her property. Thus it happens that when these old gravemothers hear that this person or the other is likely to die, they feel a secret sort of pleasure in the thought of the new child which they will have to care for and to adorn.

One grave, however, there is in Gothland which is never adorned by strangers' hands, and where the flowers are never withered, whether it be summer or winter. It lies upon a height, surrounded with beautiful trees, and with a view over the sea eastward, towards the sun-rise. There stands a simple pillar of Gothlandic marble, around which twines a luxuriant hop plant, the

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beautiful leaves of which seem caressingly to

garland the simple inscription, in gold letters:

TO THE BEST OF FATHERS.

This monument was raised by Rosa to her father's memory, and thither she wanders, and there she often sits in the evening. Sometimes she takes with her young people and children, who contend for the pleasure of adorning the grave with her; but most frequently she is alone, alone with her own memories and thoughts for the future; listening to the murmurs of the groves, and glancing out over the wide sea, which talks with her as with spirit voices.

It is a beautiful monument which Rosa has raised upon that hill top to her father. But still more beautiful is that raised by the work which she completed after his death, and published in his name. Because, like Sabina von Steinbach, who devised and wrought the most beautiful ornaments and statues of her art in the tower of Strasburg Cathedral-the great work of her father, Erwin von Steinbach-Rosa introduced all her best

thoughts and feelings into her father's work, there to live, unclaimed by her, in the shadow of his name and spirit.

Her hair has become silvered, but roses still bloom on her cheek, and her deep blue eye still retains its youthful brightness and serenity. Her life is a many-sided life of activity and love, both in spirit and deed.

Algott's hair has grown grey like hers; and like her there is still in him a youthful freshness, both of body and soul. He loves to see around him a troop of sister's-children, who love no less to be with him, and by whom he is called "Uncle Allgood!"

The property at Östervi has so much improved under prudent management, that the brother and sister are able to indulge themselves in a hospitality almost as ample as their hearts. And every midsummer, when the groves murmur and the starlings sing, again comes a little flock of young relatives and guests to Östervi, as to a paternal home. And one or two of them always remain over the winter, that they may there learn that which ennobles and beautifies life.

Östervi is worthy of its name.

Of the persons not immediately connected with the family, yet for whom the proprietress of Östervi has an especial care, is the widow whose son perished during the terrible journey with the mailbags, and to whom she silently promised to care for the mother, and the brothers and sisters, who had his last thought, his last sigh.* The children have all been educated, and, now able to provide for

*Of the remainder of the mail-bag carriers we may mention that all of them, with the exception of Wallin, bear in their persons some sorrowful reminder of the disastrous journey, in the loss of one or more limbs. This melancholy fate has united these truly brave men still more closely to each other. They promised each other that whenever any one of the five comrades died, the remainder should accompany him to the grave; and this promise has been so far faithfully kept. Among those still living is the formerly cheerful Mürbück. He now wanders with his wooden-leg about Klinte; and when he happens to get a glass more than usual he may be heard singing a lively sea song. He has received the nickname of "Brummander," the Growler, from his singularly gruff voice, but he takes it all in good part. His appearance and countenance are so melancholy that it is pitiable to behold. He enjoys from Government a small pension of 50 rixdollars Banco.

The widow Löfquist is a handsome old woman, with much natural dignity; she maintains herself by spinning, and spite of her poverty has never been known to make any demand, either on the pity or charity of others.