New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-05-14

and faithfully ne IaOOroQ. AItor tn0 veil
of pestilence was lifted from the city the bust
ness of repairing ships for time was brisk,
and wages were consequently high. This
state of things enabled Rupert to pay off
few debts incurred during his illness, and
to lay up email amount which he guarded
with a misers care. His wife was sur
prised at so pronounced q change in his
dis position, but as she had fretted at his
imprudence before, she thought it unwise
to complain of his prudence now. He pro-
vided but sparingly for his household e1-
penses, and for himself grudged every
thing.
How strange thu springs of human &C.
ton! How contradictory the impulses by
which humanity is swayed.
When the sum considered necessary was
o btained, Rupert retired from the active
business of his trade, intending to devote
the remainder of his days to purpose
which to him seemed holy. Both of his
Oh ildren had been buried in the earth, in
stead of tomb constructed above ground,
the customary receptacle of the dead in
the low lands Of Louisiana. He, therefore,
deter mined to prepare such tomb as his
small resources could afford and place
herein the poor II mains of his boy, whom
the lightning had claimed, and his darling
daughter, of whom he had been robbed by
the saffron scourge.
To this end he purchased o piece of
or ound in Greenwood Cemetery, and then
bricks and mortar, and day after day he
toile,l in the construction of the only house
he expected euer to own on earth--a last
home for his children and himself. The
work. though Few to him, was faithfully
perfor med. 1t was Labor of love, but
when completed he had 10 money where
with to purchase 8 marble door. His trade
suggested that perhaps wood might be used
as substitute for stone; be that as it may,
he framed together pieces of plank some
what similar to those used in closing the
port holes of ship, and on the outside
ca rived with patient ekill the names of his
two dead children. The door was fitted
clos ely to frame of oak, and at the cor
ners were large screws to fasten it thereto.
After all had been prepared, tho bones
of little Sylvester were unearthed and
pla ced in a small eack for removal to the
n ew tomb, and from Potter's Field the coffin
W bich contained the cherished remains of
little Lizzie was removed to its new lodge
ment.
Day after day from this time forth the
bereaved father visited his children's tomb,
and on every such visit his screwdriver WAS
mployed in opening the door of the silent
cha mber He would then, with the same
impl ement, unscrew the lid from the coffin
and read again and again, in the decaying
corpse OF her who had been so lovely and
90 beloved, cad, sickening lessons of hui
manity. Before closing the coffin he would
always strew flowers-frai!, perishable
howers-over the remains of her who had
proved as perishable as they, and then,
with melancholy step, he would pass from
the city of the dead to the city CT the liv-
ing. Once or twice he took his wife with
him in these visits to the tomb, and ON these
occasio Ms would speak of death as thing
to be desired. But he found in her no sy m-
pathetic listener. She saw that the death
of their children had effected strange
changes in his disposition, and with such
arguments as she could command endeav-
ored to win him back 20 reasonable regard
for the things of time and sense. A moody,
melancholy man, he appeared to have lost
all interest in every thing save his dead
children, and the only feeling which welled
up above the arid level OF his grief was
that which made its presence felt when Wis.,
iting their tomb.
One day, when the drear December winds
had strewn the cemetery paths with fallen
leaves, he planted two trees and few
Towering shrubs in front of the narrow
house, and then seating himself on tie
ground, pondered long on that dread mys-
terry by which the mortal puts on mortal
ity. The dry leavee, caught up by the eddy
ing breeze, Waited playfully among the
tombs. as if in defiance OF the feshless
language of decay they seemed to laugh
at death. Rupert drank in the full lesson
of their apparent contempt, and wished
that he too could fall as the leaves do, and
be forgotten. 1t was late in the evening
when he returned to his residence. and to
his wifs he seemed more than ever alb
stracted. She thereupon advised him to
arouse himself from the melancholy brood
ings which had taken so complete posses
sion of his thoughts. Work was the wor-
ship she prescribed: that, she said, would
most readily win him from his gloomy fore
bodings.
"Yes, / must have work" he replied,
land after that, rest-ch, sweet, welcome
rest,'
Next day he left home early, never to re-
turn. In keeping with determination he
had formed he took with him his screw
driver, the iron handle of an old trunk,
small bar of iron, a gimlet, piece of wire
and several screws. With these, and viol
of laudanum he had by some means OBJ
tanned, he directed his steps for the last
time to Greenwood Cemetery. AS his tomb
was IN one of the least frequented portions
of that "city of the SILENT" he was undis-
turbed in his solemn mortuary work. First,
he opened the tomb in the usual manner,
and that done, he unscrewed the lid from
his dau ghter's coffin, and scattered over the
corpse the fresh flowers he had gathered
sweets to the sweet-decay to the decaying!
He then carefully screwed the trunk handle
to the inner side of the tombs wooden door,
and clio sing the portal, walked calmly about
the ce metery till twilight dropped her cur