Urbana union. [volume] (Urbana, Ohio) 1862-1872, 1869-06-09

was alike ObliviOUS to poor Bob Martin
and his still poorer widow.
Mrs. Gordon seemed to discover pres
emily that she had devoted an unusual
amount of thought to an indifferent sub
ject, and would have risen from her
chair, had she not become so suddenly
conscious of an awful presence immedi-
ately before her, as to sit her down with
unceTemOniOus haste, and 2 very gentle
scream. She did not believe in ghosts,
nor did ii present the appearance of q
ghost, for she had the courage to observe
that there were none of the white nabil-
imentS of the grave. Darkness conceal
ed the face of the object, and it was on
Iy possible for her to distinguish theOut-
lines of a man, standing silent and mo-
tiOnless, but so very, very near, that with
her out stretched hand she might have
touched the hem Of his coat.
Suspense was terrible, and Mrs. Cor
don ended it by asking the IN expected
visitor, in a voice quite low and falteT-
ing, who he was, and what did he want?
Then it was that the light from his two
eyes beamed forth so vividly that in it
his whole face was revealed, pale and
CHASTITY, the face Ofthe dead.
No Mrs. Gordon did not believe in
ghosts, but as the light from those eyes
burned brighter, and her own eyes open
ed wider, and from her parting lips she
gasped:
It's Bob Martin, as I liver
It's Bob Martin, as I'm dead, 'respon-
ded he, in tones very sad and sepulch-
raj.
The poor, frightened wOwan hid her
face in her hands, and sought to shut out
all sight and knowledge of the hOrrid
shape, but she felt its dreadful presence
all the more. She never thought to fly,
and if she had, her trembling limbs
would have betrayed her, and cast her
on the floor, q quivering heap. She took
down her hands and endeavored to stare
it out of sight, but the pale face was i'm
m 0vable, and the dark form became
more and more distinct. Was she dream
ing? She bit her lip till the blood flow
ed, and she felt that the pain was real.
There in the dim darkness, sat little Meg,
sleeping sweetIy and peacefully. All
was real, and nothing dreamlike, but
the terrible shape before her.
Once more, Mrs. Gordon did not be-
lieve in ghosts; but here stood that to
which she could apply no other name of
which she had ever heard or read. So
she thought, and so she thought aloud,
when sherepeated slowly, like one in a
dream:
It's Bob Martins ghost!'
The ghost, if ghost it was re-echoed
the words:
It's Bob Martins ghOstp
This seemed to settle the matter, and,
strange to say, it emboldened her to look
the ghostly visitor in the face and ask:
why do you visit me, of all others,
and on this night, Ofall others"
Il have my mission to fulfill, replied
the ghost, in a voice hollow as the tomb,
and blessings be on the heads of all that
heed my teachings, and woe betide them
them that hearken uOt. Tonight my
lesson is for you, if your heart is open to
learn. It is not in my power to do you
harm, FollOwmew
1t was done in q moment. Before 4
word could pass her lips she was lifted
like a gTeatfeatherintOt the air, and float
ing side by side with the ghOst.-Out OF
the open window into the night they
went, and casting q backward glance
she still saw little Meg sleeping in quiet
peace.
The lamps We're burning in the streets
and people were passing 70 and 1TO, wO,
men chatting gaily and children shout.
ing at their sports. She and her COM
panion passed Unheeded and unseen
above them all, for it seemed that they
We're both invested with an invisibility
as to all other eyes than hers. On they
flew, through streets brilliant with light
and life; through alleys dark and DESC
late: by gay saloons echOing with song
and laughter; past homes darkened by
death. Over the canal lying placid and
still; over the brook, mUrmuring and
{ N1oi 6opa yyro1so N flon
open country.
Behind was the city, one great light,
and around were the fields so silent and
dark.
She was not amazed when the white
monuments of the cemetery appeared to
view, for whittier could the dead be tend
ing, ifnOt to the abode of the dead?
The tall slabs, the evergreen trees, the
waving willows, the pOndeTOUs vaults,
all bore a familiar appearance as she ap-
preached, ,fOrshe had spent the dayjust en-
ded among them. There was the sol
emn, awful stiffness Of the graves, and
the dreadful loneliness of deaths pres
ence, but she had lost all fear, and felt
instead an earnest longing for the lesson
she should receive. She bent an inqUir-
ing look upon the ghost, and his answer
came in the same sepUlchral voice:
ITO the decoration ofsoldieTs' graves?''
Almost as he spoke they stood in the
midst of the same graves that had been
strewn with wreaths and flowers, all ly-
ing in darkness. In a moment the Tis-
ing moon shot his rays among them, and
her eyes hastily sought the one which
the Presence at her side had deserted so
untimely. There it lay, but behold! her
wreath was gone, and in its place sat q
woman's figure, bowed dewn with grief
and weeping. Two feeble children ClUng
to her side, and hid their faces i'll her
dress.
The Ghost didnot whisper it, butsOme-
thing told her from her heart that there
was poor Bob's widow, and these her
children. She cast her eyes about and
saw many a grave decorated in q like
manner. On some were women with
many children; on others were lone wO-
men with none.
On one were three ragged little girls,
on another an old, old woman with thin,
white hair; and all wore tattered gar
ments. Not a wreath, nor an arch; not
q flower to be seen; only these poor NOR
tails in their rags. They did not speak or
utter a sound, but their haggard faces
and their patches, ''pOOr dumb mouths, 4"
Mrs. Gordon guessed the sad history of
every one, and with 4 glance at the
Ghost asmUch as told him so. He gazed
in sorrow a long time at the decoration
upon his own grave, and turning his
eyes of fire once more upon her, in tones
more softened, but hollow still, he said:
Monuments, and praise, and wTeaths,
and flowers are as dead to us as we are
dead to your living world. What labor
and skill, what art and science, what
wealth and pomp you bring to do honor
to the dead. We see il not, we feel it
not, and all the honor of the world is
dust and ashes to us. We possessed it,
perhaps, in life, and, dying, we left il
behind. They that offered sacrifices to
the sun, whOscli light was above them and
upon them, were not less wise than you,
who offer up great treasures in honor of
the dead. How you praise, and glOrify,
and eulogiZe us, while you LAY the flat
tering JUNCTION to your souls that in this
is kindness. Learn that charity is for
the living, and not for the dead. He
who built that costly pile in memory of
his son, saw his own brothers. child go
down to shame through poverty, yet he
thought himself wOndrOus kind. That
wreath which the tears of the widow
have blasted, would have purchased her
a month of rest and comfort. The eX-
penses of the Decoration Day just ended
would have brought happiness to more
poor homes than there were graves here
to be decked.
You do not forget the dead, for you
a,r, lint nh hny,- pcfap i'm y-nu1, roe