Hannibal journal and western union. (Hannibal, Mo.) 1851-1852, 1851-11-06

had hung about him and hattery's syren voice hac
sounded in his ear, or dearer ties had bound him
to earth, and fond beings had watched over him
and prayers had ascended pure and anxious for
his safety and those to whom he was dear were
even then following him in spirit upon his jour-
ney. But lifeswas gone:
"FOr hin no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care, @~
No childreg,run to lisp their sire's return,
Orelimb bis knee, the envisd ks. to share"
Tyndall Immediately pushed forward to over
take the wagon, while bis cornra1e reniainAs, 81
thassow the iowiy bed and rugged pillow of the
dead man. George spurred on rapidly and soon
reached the tahm
'Hallool what the hell's the matter, Tyndall?
You look as if forty devils, at the least ealoua-
tion, were hard after you," was Sykesey's salu-
tation.
o George was tempted 10 say---"Or as yon did
when you ran away from the Pot
awatamie,' % for the words Of the preacher fell
harshly and jarringly upon his ear but he only
replied, "There'sG "a poor fellow dead little
way back, anaI want the spades, that we may
"'Lct the dead bury the dead, " the parson
devoutly exclaimed, s'andsyou come along. As
Tor thatfooi, Chaloner, let him fiitker. He'll
come up about feedin' time, reckon"
But Tyndall rewarded him with a whitening
glance, and merely said; "You diabolioal wretch,
are you entirely heartless?" ando receiving the
implements he desired, from Reuben, he gal
loped quickly back to the spot where hehad left
his companion.
They dug shallow, narrow grave, and laid
the body Of him that had gone, in its straitened
portals, and heaped the damp, cold clods Of the
Ix-alla 4 - y
alone, and a picket pin his solitary mon
ument. They laid him. there, upon the summit
| of low, soft, swelling knoll, exposed to the
scorchiug droughts Of summer and the bowling,
chilly winds of winter, where the Maytide ami
none bushes around his humble resting place
where the prairie rose expands her beauteous,
blossoms, bending lonely and gracefully above
his head, and where the autumnal gales heap the
dry grass up about his tomb. When their mel
ancholy labor was ended, Chaloner drew forth
"a ring-a plain and unadorned, but massive gold
lrings and inscribed on the inner circle was
sasote"s u my toUe; tciiho1u end ana sclthout
dItoy;'' ring which had been suspended around
the neck and next the heart of the dead man;
and the sight of which, even in the death throe,
had perhaps called back his wandering thoughts
to some loved being far, far away. He gave it
Ito Tyndall, and piece Of paper inscribed with
a few illegibie tracIngs of the pencil, and the
two mounting their mules and leading the horse
of the dead man, they rode slowly down the
road.
As they went along in melancholy grise, SOM
bre thoughts weighed heavily in the breast Of
Chaloner, and Tyndalls usually joyous spirit
was checked in its out-pourings by saddened
sensations awakened by the melancholy scene
he had so lately witpessed. There was no more
hon hf 81, l..
conversation received mouPnful tinge from the
feelings they cherished. The road was long,
and they proceeded at slow gait until the shades
Of evening again darkened the horizon, and the
pale lustre OF theamoon fell coldly on the earth
| Tyndall now broke the moody silence which had
for some time subsisted, by repeating those
beautiful lines of Whittier:
"Night was down amid the mountals,
In her dim and quiet manner,
Where Bethula's silver fount tains,
! Gnshed beneath the Assyrian's blnneE.
Moonlight o'er her meek domnions,
As mighty flag unfarled,
Like an angels snowy pinions,
| Resting on a darKened world"
"What beautiful, beautiful evening"" said
Chaloner, ''and admirably has the poet, in those
simple breathing words pictured the serenity of
quiet nightfall."
Nox erst, ct in cole, fugebet Luna serene
%. Inter minora sidera
But the glimmerings of the campfire began
to be visible, twinkling far off with ruddy light,
and soon the wanderers were in the midst of
their companions, as tired and hungry as mOrtals
well may be. ~
''WhOse nag is this here 'un?" Sykesey en-
quired anxiously. 90
sit belonged to the man whom we buried, -
I 1Tyndall answered.
"Well, you get well paid for your trouble, f"
remarked the disinterested curator Of souls, and
She continued, ''as old Boney's gitsin' white a.
bout the gills, and looks as if he'd peg out a.
ready, reckon I'll fall heir to him. -
II reckon you viii do no such thing" inter-
posed Chaloner; IL viii deliver the horse to the
IMAM friends, if pOssible-if not, he shall be-
long to the mess"