The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1870-10-15

ment, and broken thea mothers Lcart
that all Of her kindred that now RENAME,
was a brother, and he was ia a forcigI
land.
The sun was resting above the submits
Of the faroff mountains, and the yew tree
we're flinging their dusky shadows over th'
graves, as | er'crad the burial place 0
Altonby. The old church was roohess anC
in ruins and within its walls were MANY
tombstones over the ashes Of those who
having left more than the wherewithal t
bury them, and had been laid there by
their heirs, as if in token Of respect. In a
distant corner, observed one little mounc
over which no stone had been placed t.
indicate who lay beneath; it was evidently
the grave Of a stranger, and seemed to have
been placed in that spot more for the pur
pose of being out of the way than for ans
other At a short distance from it wa:
another mound, overtopped with or IS Of &
fresher kind. As | stood leaning over a
marble tombstone, gazing around me, a
figure slowly entered at the farther end Of
the aisle, and, with folded arms and down.
cast eyes, passed on to those two graves.
Ii was that of a young man Of perhaps FIVE
and twenty, though settled melancholy
which overspreaG his countenanee, made him
look five years older crouched behind
the stone on which | had been leaning,
fearful of disturbing hi2 with my presence,
Or rousing bis attention by my attempting
to leave the place.
After gazing with vacant eye for few
moments upon the grave, be knelt down
between them His lips began to move,
but heard not what he said. | thought
he was praying f0~ the souls Of the
departed and | was confirmed in this by
hearing linn at last say, With an audible
voice:
May all good angels guard thee, Clara
Douglas, and thou, my mother
As he uttered these last words, be turned
bis eyes to the newer grave thought be
was about to continue his prayer; but, as
If the sight Of be grave had awakened
other feelings, he suddenly started up, and,
raising his hands TO heaven, invoked curses
on the head of one whom be termed their
" murderer That done, he rushed
madly from the church. All this was very
strange to me and | determined, if posi-
BE to ascertain whose remains those graves
entombed.
Ga leaving th churchyard, | was
fortunate enough to forgathcr with an old
man, from whom learned the melancholy
story Of her who occupied the older-looking
grave. She was young and beautiful
Accident had deprived her father of that
wealth which long life Of untiring in
dustry had enabled him to lay past for his
children; and be did not long survive It's
loss. Fearful OF being a burden to her
mother, who had son and another daughter
besides herself to provide for out Of the
slender pittance which remained to Der on
her husbands death, Clara Douglas ac-
cepted a situation "a a governess, and
songht to earn N honorable independence
nv those talents and accom- plishments which
had once been cultivated for mere amuse-
ment. The brother Of Cara, shortly after
wards obtained an appointment on the
island of MADEIRA. Unfortunately for
Clara, a young officer, relative of the
family in which she resided, saw her, and
was smitten with her charms He loved
and was beloved again. The footing cf
intimacy on which he was in the house pro-
cured him many interviews with Clara.
Suddenly bis regiment was ordered to the
Continent, and when the young ensign told
the sorrowful tidings to Clara, be elected
from her a confession Of her love.
Months passed away, Waterloo was
fought and won, and Ensign Malcolm was
among those who fell.
When the death-list reached Scotland,
many we're the hearts it overpowered with
with grief; but Clara Douglas had more
than one grief to mourn sorrow and
shame we're too much to bear together, and
she fed from the house where she had first
met him who was the cause of all. None
could tell whittier she had gone. Her
mother and sister we're agonized, when the
news of her disappearance reached them.
Every search was made, but without effect
A year all but two weeks passed away, and
still no tidings Of her, till that very day,
two boys seeking for pheasant's nests upon
the top of hillock overgrown with furze-
which the old man pointed out to me at a
short distance from the place where we
enthusiastically stumbled upon an object
beneath gtree. 1t was the remains of
female in a kneeling posture. Beneath
her garments, By which she was recognised
as Clara Douglas, not a vestige Of flesh
remained. There was still some upon her
hands, which had been tightly clasped
together; and upon her face which leant
upon them. Seemingly she bad died in
great agony. 1t was supposed by some
that she had taken poison.
eff your time will permit" added the
old man, az be wiped away tear, II will
willingly show you the place where her
remains we're found. 1t is but short
distance. Come"
| followed the old man in silence. He
led the way into field. We climbed over
some loose stones thrown together, to serve
az a wall Of division at the farther ex-
tremity Of it, and slowly began to ascen1
the grassy activity, which was on both
sides bordered by a thick hedge, placed
apart, at the distance Of about thirty feet
When half way up, | could not resist the
inclination l felt to turn and look upon the
scene. 1t was an evening as fair as l had
ever gaze1 on. The wheat was springing
in the field through which VIC had just
passed, covering it, as it were, with rich
green carpet. Trees and hills bounded the
view, behind which the sun was on the
point Of sinking, and the red streaks upon
the western sky gave promise of goodly
day to morrow"
eff, thought |, the hour on which Clara
Douglas assembled this hill was as lovely as
this evening, she must indeed nave been
deeply bent upon her own destruction, to
look upon the world so beautifully fair, and
not wish to return to it again. We con-
tinued our ascent, passing among thick
TANGLED underwood. in whose kindly grasI