The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1872-11-04
The Old Church.Yard Tree,

There is an old yew tree which stands
by the wall in dark corner OF the
churchyard,
And child WIS ut play beneath It's |
wide-spreading branches, one fine day
in the early spring. He had his lap full
Of flowers, which the fields and lanes
had supplied him with, and he was hum
ming tune to himself us he wlye them
into garlands.
And little girl ut play among the
tombstones crept near to listen but the |
boy was so intent upon his garland, that
he did not hear the gentle footsteps, MS
they trol softly over tile fresh green |
grass. When his work was finished,
and all the flowers that were in his lap
were woven together in one long wreath,
he started mp to measure its length upon
the ground, and then he saw the little
girl, MS she stood with her eyes fixed
upon him. Ho did not move or speak,
but thought to himself that she looked
very beautiful rs she stood there with
her ilaxen ringlels hanging down upon
her neck. The little gill was 80 startled
by his sudden movement, that she let
full all the flowers she had collected in
her apron, md ran away MS East rs she
could. But tho boy was older and taller
than sho, and sson caught her, and
coaxel ller to come bnck and play with
him, and help him to make more gar.
lands and from that time they saw each
othernearly every day, and became great
friends. r...
Tweutyyea passed away. Again, he
was seated beneath the old yow tree in
the charchyard.
II aus summer now; bright, beautiful
summer, with the birds singing, and the
flowers covering the ground, md scent.
ing the mir with their perfume.
But he WIS not alone now, nor did the
little girl steal near on tiptoe, fearful
OF being heard. She was seated 10y his
side, and his arm was round her, and
she looked up into his face, and smiled
MS she whispered: The first evening
OF our lives we were ever together was
passed here; we will spend the first eve
ming Of our welded life In the same
quiet, happy place." And he drew her
closer to him MS she spoke,
The summer is gone; and the autumn;
and twenty more summers and autumns
have passed away since that evening, in
the old churchyard.
A young man, on bright moonlight
night, comes Keeling through the little
white gate, and stumbling over the
graues. He shouts and he sings, and is
presently followed by others like unto
himself, or worse. So, they oil laugh at
the dark solemn head OF the yew tree,
and throw stones up ut tho place where
the moon Inns silvercl the boughs.
Those same boughs are again silvered
by the moon, aud they dfoop over his
mothers grave. There is little stone
which bears this inscription:
CHER uRART DRAKE IN SILENCE"
But the silence OF the churcli.yard is
now broken by voice-not OF tha youth
nor n voice of laughter and ribaldry.
"AIy sonl dost thou sec. this grave ?
aud dost thou read the record in anguish,
whereof may come repentance?'
"Of what should l repent ~ answers
the son "and why should my young
ambition for fame relax in its strength
because my mother was old md weak ?"
SIS this indeed our son ?" says the
father, bending in agony over the grave
OF his beloved.
al can well believe / am not" ex-
claimcth the youth. ait iswell that you
have brought ne hero to say SO. Our
natures are unlike; our courses must be
opposite. Your why lictll hcre-mine
yonder ~
So tho son left the father knecling by
the grave.
AgalS few years arc passed. It is
winter, with n roaring wind and thick
gray fog. The graves in the church.
yard nre covered with snow, and there
are great icicles in the church porch.
The wind now carries u swathe OF snow
along the tops OF the graves, as though
the "sheetcd deaf" were ut some mel
ancholy play; and bark the icieles fall
with crash and jingle, like solemn
mockery OF tho echo OF the unseemly
mirth OF one who is now coming to his
final rest.
There nre TWO graves near tne OH yeW
tree; and tile grass has overgrown them.
a third is close by; and the dark earth
at each side has Just been thrown up.
The bearers come with heavy pace
they moye along; the coffin heayeth up
and down, as they step over tue inter-
vening graves.
Grief aud old age had seized upon the
father, and worn out his life; and prema-
turc decay soon seized upon the son, and
gnawed away his vain ambition, and his
useless strength, till he prayed TO be
borne, not the way yonder that was most
opposite to his father and his mother.
but even tho same way they had gone
the way which leads to the Old Church,
yard Tree.
KILLED ny AN ArE.-Tho Noni gives
the following account OF horrible acct.
dent which has Just happened ut Mon.
trOuge, France. A. N. Dumas, residing
there, an agent ofmanufacturing chemists
in Rouen, has kept for the last three