BLITHEDALE PASTURE

Blithedale, thus far in its progress, had never found the necessity of a burial-ground. There was some consultation among us in what spot Zenobia might most fitly be laid. It was my own wish that she should sleep at the base of Eliot’s pulpit, and that on the rugged front of the rock the name by which we familiarly knew her, Zenobia, — and not another word, should be deeply cut, and left for the moss and lichens to fill up at their long leisure.

But Hollingsworth (to whose ideas on this point great deference was due) made it his request that her grave might be dug on the gently sloping hillside, in the wide pasture, where, as we once supposed, Zenobia and he had planned to build their cottage. And thus it was done, accordingly.