I thought of my father's grave in the churchyard, by our house, and of my mother lying there beneath the tree I knew so well.

I stood upon a chair when I was left alone, and looked into the glass to see how red my eyes were, and how sorrowful my face.

I considered, after some hours were gone, if my tears were really hard to flow now, as they seemed to be, what, in connexion with my loss, it would affect me most to think of when I drew near home--for I was going home to the funeral.

I am sensible of having felt that a dignity attached to me among the rest of the boys, and that I was important in my affliction.
If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was.

But I remember that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school.