The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1845-03-19


prayed for death. Sweet, joyous Lucy Dutton,
asking to lay her bright head in the grave! Spring
came, and shame was stamped upon the cottage
at the foot of the hill. Lucy bowed her head
upon her bosom, and refused TO look upon any
thing but her baby; and the old lady shrunk like
shrveled leaf before this last and greatest of
her troubles. The neiglborhood had its usual
gossip There were taunts, and sneers, and
coarse jests, and remarks severely true, but only
"a little, very little, pity. Lucy bore all this
well, for she knew that it was deserved; but she
had worse than this TO bear. Every day she
knelt by the bed of the one being who had do
ted upon her from infancy, and begged her bles-
sing but in vain.
"Oh! that | had laid you in the coffin, with
your dead mother, when all around me said that
the breath had passed from you!n was the unva-
Trying reply; "then my gray hairs might have gone
down TO the grave without dishonor from the child
that took from the gate of death, and bore for
years upon my bosom. Would you had died,
Lucy!
And Lucy would turn away her head, and in
the bitterness of her heart, echo, Gay! would
that had diedw Then she would take her ba-
by in her arms, and, while the shedding tears
bathed its unconscious face, pray God TO forgive
the wicked wish, and preserve her life for the
sake of this sinless heir to shame. And some
times Lucy would smile--not that calm, holy
smile which usually fingers about an infants era
die, but faint, sicklied play Of the love-lght
within, as though the mothers fond heart was
ASHAMED of its own throbbngs. But, before the
autumn passed, Lucy Dutton was feartully srIck-
en-. Death came! She laid her last comfort
from her bosom into the coffin, and they were now
bearing it TO the grave: she the only mourner.-
1t mattered but little that the grandmothers for
giveness and blessing came now; Lucy scarce
knew the difference between these words and
those l,st spoken and most earnestly did she an
swer, ''Would, would that had ded!" Poor,
poor Lucy!
She sat all through the sermon and the singing
and the prayer, with her head bowed upon the
SIDE Of the pew; and when at last they bore the
coffin 10 the door, and the congregation began
TO move forward, she did not raise until the kind
clergyman came and led her out TO take last
look at her dead boy. Then she laid her thin,
pale face against his withnthc coffin, and sobbed
aloud. And now some began to pity the stricken
girl, and whisper to their ncighbors that she was
more snned against than shining. Still none
came forward TO whisper the little word which
might have been healing, butthe holy man whose
duty it was. He took her almost forcIbly from
the infant clay, and strove to calm her, while
careless eyes came to look upon that deaTer TO
her than her own hearts blood. Finally, cutiosi-
ty was satisfied; they closed the coffin, screwed
down the lid, spread the black cloth overit, and
the procession began to form. Minister Green
left the side of the moumer, and took his station
in advance, accompanied by some half dozen
others; then four mon followed, bearing the light
coffin in their hands, and all eyes were turned up
oD the mourner. She did not move.
"Pdss on, madam" said Squire Field, who al
ways acted the part of marshal OH such occasions,
and, though little given TO the weakness Of feel
ing, he now softened his voice as much as it
would bear socening. "This way-eight be-
hind thee-pass on!'
Lucy hestated moment, and many gene
rous one onged to step forward and give her an
arm, but selfish prudence forblde. One bright
girl, who had been Lucy's playmate from the era
die, but had not seen her face for many months,
drew mpulsively toward her; but she met re-
proving eye from the crowd, and only whisper
ing, 81 do pity you, Lucy" she shrupk back,
and sobbed almost as loud as her errng friend.--
Lucy started at the words, and gazing wildly
around her, tottered on after the coffin. Loud,
and slow, and fearfully solemn stroke after stroke,
the old church-bell doled forth its tale and slow
and solemnly the crowd moved on with meas
ured tread; though there was many careless
eye and many smiling lip, turning to other
eyes and other lips, with something like jest
between them. On moved the crowd after the
mourner; while she, with irregular, labored step,
her arms crossed on her bosom, and her head
bent TO the same resting-piace, just kept pace
with the bearers of her dead boy. Winding thro'
the opened gate into the church yard, they went
trailing slowly through the long dead grass, while
some Of the children crept silly from the process
sion to pick the tufts of scarlet and yellow leaves,
which made this place Of graves strangely gay;
and several young people wandered of, arm in
arm, pausng as they went 10 read the rude in
scriptions ettered upon the stones. On went
the procession to the farthermost corner where
fIslept the stranger and vagabond. Here little
grave had been dug, and the coffin was now set
down beside it, while the long procession circled
Slowly round. Several went up and looked into
the dark damp cradle of the dead child; one OBJ
served TO his neighbor that it was very shallow;
and another said that Tom Jones always sighted
his work when there was nobody to see to il; any
how il was not much matter, the child would stay
Ilburied; and another let drop jest, hard bat
not very witty one, though it was followed by .
smothered laugh. All this passed quietly, no.
thing was spoken above a low murmur, but Lucy
heard it all, and as she heard and remembered
what repulsive thing seemed to her the human
, heart! Poor Lucy Dutton!
Minister Green stood at the head of the grave
! and said prayer, while Lucy leaned against &
' sckly looking tree, alone, and pressed her colo
] hand against her temples and wondered if she
Y could ever pray again-if God would hear her i
] she should. Then they laid the little coffin up
e on ropes and gently lowered it. The grave was
too short, or the men we're careless, for there was
2 a harsh grating against the hard earth, whicl