Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1874-06-02


intermission. Strolling about among tht
quiet graves. many OF which, especially
the resting places of little children, were
strcwn tcndcrly with bright hued she'll:
and pebbles, my attention was arrested
by the contrast between the lnv plainly
carved stones around ma. and tall slen
der shaft OF the purcst Italian marble
rising from solid granite pedestal at a
little distance beyond. Drawing nearer
read in beautifully embossed characters
In mcmo@y OF
JOCK WILL>TON,
Who came to him.rlf, ani to his
Fathers House,
On Christmas Day, 1910.
'Thei that sat in dGrtHes' a great hgbt'
The briei epitaph, beneath whose quaint
phase some unusual significance seemed
concealed. aroused in me II strong desire
to know more of the qliet sleeper below.
The wish must have been urconsciou,ly
betrayed in my counlenancc, tor n
wrhklcd. kindly faced old lady, who sat
upon 4 bench near by. with an open
lunch basket, and two rosy grandchildren
at her knee, suddenly beckonei me to n
place beside her, saying, as il in answer
to a spoken question.
Tho words do seem odd for grayo
stone. ma'am, but indeed tho Lords
dcaiu's with poor jock were past our
lindin' out. You never heard tell OF him,
| | Judge Pr
"No,-bul have never been here
before"
LIKELY cnoush,-and yet every child
on the coast could tell you the story. II
was in the Portland papers, too-bu,--
bless me! that must - been nigh twenty
years ago. No wonder You wouldn't
lomembcr,n
The old dlne's eyes brishtcned, and
she paused rs if to please herself with
the anticipation OF IN interested listener.
You knew him, then, this Jock, as YOU
cal! him?' limited gently.
"Kncw him p she answered with a
ma,ing smile. 81 dressed him the night
he was born.-a Strouglinbed. hearty
babe, with bright, black eyes. and hair rs
dark and curly as Jamic's here. That
was Christmas Eve. and Just one week
aHcrNard, on New Years Day, the brig
SEA GaH touudcrcl OF the coast OF New.
.ouudiaud, with Cap'n Wilis;on and all
his men, and so the poor baby never saw
hi, fathers face.
Poor little Mis-. Wi,Ii>,oa, I can see
just how she looked. lyiu' there day after
day, as white and help'e-- as broken
lay lily, with that litue brown head tuck
cd against her check twas only the baby
that KEEP; her alive. She'd make mo hold
him 10 the 'ish, dozen times day
You're Sinc his eyes won't tam any
lighter, Mis- Dawson?' she'd say. You
see The cap'n had a coal black eye. And
then again. lie grows, Mis-. Dawson ?
You think he's rtry well. don't you p in
- voice that wi>llul. teat bad 4 master
light with myself to keep The water out
of my eyes, instead Of answering her up
righ; cheerful. We'll? | should think he
did, the little cap'ni And CROWN? Look
1t That arm Why! he'll be lilliu' his
mother OF the bed b,(o:C she knows itn
Then she'd smile 4 little palo smile. and
and put her two arms round my neck,
poor thing for she was scarce more'n a
baby herself
"WelI, the time passed on, ani little
Joca grew up, rs brave and handsome \
lad IS you could wish to see. 1t was real
sun hiue 10 my eyes 10 see him wAlkin'
alongside OF his mother, draSin' himself
up, ana kcep;n' step with her like grown
man. s. tender of her, too, he was,
lcayin' all his mates for her if sho was
alone, and forever layin' out what he
meant to do for her when he was man
And what with 5cin' so fond and proud of
him, she got to look, barrin' her black
dress, almost ;he same as when tho cap'n
was alive. All. me! I've thought
many times since how merciful it is in the
Lord TO let US see 50 little ways ahead.
In the best of times. we're only ships in
fog, and have TO steer by compass.
The summer Jock was twelve years
old, was amazn' sickly all along the
coast was nigh beat out nursin' 'Biiah
Porcs's wife through the typhoid, and
had come home one Wednesday after.
noon to get n little rest. rs was lyin'
on the lounge, in hall doze, tho door
opened, and Mis-. WlliStOn come in She
never stopped nor spoke. but come straight
across the nJor. with face white as a
ghost. Then she put her hands on my
shoulders, aud says She, Mis-. Dawson,
my Jocks got The fever | rose up like
a fash. and pat nay shawl over nay head,
and went home with her. And | never
cane home, mahm, for seven weeks
Awcsomc weeks they were, mA'am. The
n -als were worst. used 10 lcoI as il
we two were hshtin' Death hand to hand
flr that boy. ali he 4 tOsSin' Oh the pill
low, his red checks sunk away, all his
curly hair shaved close TO his head, aud
0 ~ a. =