The mountain Democrat., 1865-12-16
A Grave Gives up its Dead.


q perfect success. Everything went off
as well as anything of that kind that l
ever saw.
think it would have been better II
that prim Miss Hagcart had not been in.
vited but then don't know that John
could have helped it, seeing that it was to
be family dinner party. Miss Hagcart
is cousin Of bis wife. Mary, and would
have felt offended If she had been slight.
ed. ! san, al iNe very moment l entered
the drawing room, that she was going to
do her best to please me; and DR.. Willow.
ly, my old friend, who is Aways joking
me on my bachelorhood-a absurd way
that some married people have-gave me
a nudge, as much as to say:
Now. Bill Seaton, behave your best
while 10. the presence of Miss Hagcart.
She wants to be married, and you. are In
need Of a wife,
was as bearish as possible towards
Miss Hagcart. The dinner went off as
we'll as such well l.assorted parties usually
do; and after the ladies had left the table
the wine circulated quickly. I like old
port hugely, and | did full justice to it
that day.
Though the wines sparkled, I could not
help thinking that the sparkles were not
so bright as Miss Jessie Willowly's eyes;
though thought as looked in the glass
that they were shining there at me as
they had been when she was at the table
opposite me.
The party broke up soon after dinner.
Jessie must return home, she said, as she
expected few young friends to tea; and
an old uncle drove her over to her abode.
The Doctor must 60 and see patient, and
there was no attraction left for me so |
announced my intention to 60 too. John
and his wife tried to detain me by words,
and Miss Hagcart by her glance, but nei.
ther availed; and the Doctor and left
together, keeping the same road, as his
patient dwelt beyond the house where |
myself resided.
Presently We passed by the old church,
standing in the graveyard so thickIy stud.
ded with graves Beyond was a low row
of iron doors that led into the tombs in
the hill side. By unexpressed mutual
consent, we leaned up against the low
wall, and looked over where, among 9th
crs, the WilOwiys and Seatons had been
buried for many generations. and where
we both confidently expected, sooner or
later, to be also sleeping, the same un.
broken sleep.
They are having a quiet sleep here,
Scaton,' said the Doctor, after he had
leant against the wall full three minutes
without speaking.
Yes, Doctor, so quiet and deep that
they cannot hear our voices, even those
lying close here under the wall, nor hear
the wind TuStling the leaves about them.
Here, before many days, we too shall be
sleeping as deaf as our neighbors on either
side-the long forgotten ancestors of the
Willowlys and Seatons! |!
Yes; and we can't tell how soon.--
Death comes sometimes when we least
expect it. Widow Clark, whom / am,
now going to see, was well three days
ago. and to-day it is doubtful if she can
recover. In fact, l almost know she can.
not!'
Saying so the Doctor brought down his
cane upon one Of the rough stones Of the
wall, as if to enforce the decision that he
had in his own mind arrived at.
Indeed, Doctor! Then l must call
on her to morrow. We've always been
friends, and, if she dies, | shall miss her
very much
We'll, we'll, we must all 60 some day,
sooner or later and, if she goes before
US, why, then she has the advantage, that
is ALL
With this, We turned away from the
churchysrd, and went down the road, still
convcrsing upon the subject, until we
reached the door of my own house.
Come a1d see me Tomorrow said the
Doctor, as he bade me good evening. Il
shall be at home after two, unless there
are some new cases that require my at
tention.'
You may expect me, was my reply,
as mounted the steps, and wondered, as
entered the sitting-room, which it was
that made me promise readily-my old
friendship for the Doctor, or the bright
eyes Of his daughter Jessie.
My housekeeper, Mrs. Bell, was knit
ting vigorously in the sitting-room when
| entered; but she arose and placed my
arm. chair in my favorite place by the
window, and at the same time expressed
her surprise at my early return. She did
not expect me for at least two hours, she
said.
It was partly the truth that told her
that had found the party dull, and SO
had got away as soon as possible. 1t was
dull as soon as Jessie had gone. All the
lights seemed to be gone out of the house
when she departed.
seated myself in the chair Mrs. Bell
placed for me, and answered her inquiries
as she propounded them The question
ing was habit she had, and | rather
liked than otherwise. Had she for once
neglected her usual cross. questioning, |
should have been at a loss what TO have
done with myself. or in what manner !
could have conveyed to her the events OF
the day as they had come to me. Such
is the force of habit; and for nearly If
teen years had been subject to it every
time had gone out. But on this occa'
sion, either she did not ask her questions
as fast as usual, or else | did not take
that interest that I usually experienced
in the narration of what had transpired
in nv absence; for, in spite Of my efforts,
became drowsy. and Mrs. Bell noticing
it, suggested that should retire to my
chamber. Thinking the suggestion good
one, arose from nv chair, went to NV
room, and threw myself upon the bed
overcome with drowSiness. Lying at lull
length upon my back, soon lost myself
in sleep. It was morning when ! came
to myself, for the sun was shining IN at
the window. had slept all night long
without awakening and ] attempted to
spring from the bed. But you NAV i'm
agine my surprise and dconsternation when
I found that could not move limb any