They buried her where she had wished to lie—­near the little mausoleum which still covers Mamma’s tomb.  The little mound beneath which she sleeps is overgrown with nettles and burdock, and surrounded by a black railing, but I never forget, when leaving the mausoleum, to approach that railing, and to salute the plot of earth within by bowing reverently to the ground.

Sometimes, too, I stand thoughtfully between the railing and the mausoleum, and sad memories pass through my mind.  Once the idea came to me as I stood there:  “Did Providence unite me to those two beings solely in order to make me regret them my life long?”