Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1869-09-08

"On the lounge in the sitting room, dear
And here is Miss Maxey. You remembel
her, don't you?''
/ nodded my head, and tried to force my
lips into smile, bnt the attempt was utter
ly abortive. Pretty soon | opened my eyes
but as they met Johns, so full of tender
sympathy, the tears burst forth afresh
There were questions that | longed to ask
and dared not
g This won't do said Miss Maxey, de-
cidedly. John Gardiner, do you tell her
all about it. She may as well know it first
as last. and the sooner it is over the better.
just step into the hall and whisper. I'll hear
! you
She went. But there was silence between
us. l felt now what had failed to realize
before, that some one whom | loved lay be-
meath that winding the awful
presence from which had tried to fee was
in truth nothing to fear, but something to
be mOurned over-ah, how bitterly
Z" Is it Ruth, John ?'' | whispered, draw
ing his face closer to my own
g Not Ruth he answered, /" thank
God for that in the midst of all our dark
ness "
/ He hesitated. Then as he met my i'm
/ ploring, questioning gaze, he bent over and
kissed me twice ere he went on
81 But it is your father, Sibyl."
The funeral services were conducted as
quietly. briefly as possible, for Ruth s
sake. The door was left open that she might
hear the hymn-a low, tremulous wall at
first, rising gradually to the heights of
/ triumphant harmony. 1t was the mortal
suffering, struggling, dying, yet in natures
EXTREMIST hour grasping hold of the Infinite,
m ly a
where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy
victory ?" There was fervent, heartfelt
prayer. God was thanked that he had given,
and that he had taken away SO peacefully,
so gently, with so little of severe and pro-
tracted agony Tender mention was made of
the daughter upstairs, who might not even
look upon the face of her dead and the
promised blessing was claimed for the widow
and the fatherless. No words of eulogy
were spoken. None were needed. And
then, one by one, the friends and lifelong
neighbors of him who lay there wrapped in
the cerements of the grave, passed into the
little parlOr for one farewell glance at the
pale, impassive features Slowly. tearfully,
reverentially the coffin was borne from the
house and placed upon the bier. No black
plumed hearse, with costly trappings and
funereal pomp, bore it to the grave But
loving, careful hands-albet some of them
were darkened by toll and roughened by
years of labOr-lifted it tenderly and carried
it over the hills and along the meadow-road,
till they reached the quiet burial ground
Then they laid their precious burden down
beneath the yellow sands, and stood with un-
covered heads while their pastor pronounced
the solemn benediction, and returned thanks
TO those present, in the name of the departed
and Of those whom his death had left desc
late, for all their kindly Offices toward him
and towards them. The little gathering dis
persed, and Ralph Huntington slept with
his fathers"
The yellow sunshine filled the earth with
golden glory. The birds sang as they had
sung last week The Otter sparkled on its
winding way, stealing through grassy fields,
beneath the willows, and among the roots of
gnarled and moss grown trees. The skies
were as blue, the mountains as royalty mag
nifcent, the woods as full Of solemn an
thnrna
All it may be true that a. nature never
did betray the heart that loved her But
cold and unsyInpathetic. she heaves no sigh
for human woes, she sheds no tears over
mortal SORROWS.