Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1879-01-24

Lois never talked of death to Eunice,
though she knew that death was inev-
table. The silk had been bought for
the wedding dress; the tulle and the
orange blossoms for the wreath and the
bridal veil, and Lois had stitched for
gct-me-nots on the white kids, which
were never to be worn by bride.
The summer waned. The perfume
of the roses ceased to steal in through
the windows; the luxurious odors of
"Garth's Orchard" had given place to
ruddy apples and peaches, whose vel
vet down bespoke their inward luscious
ness; the hues of autumn were on the
woods, its purple haze hung in the sky,
and the discarded leaves crunched un-
der the foot of Walter Garth as he made
his daily visit down the road to the bed
side of her who was never to redeem
her promise. Pale almost as Eunice
herself, half-crazed by the certain pros
pect of her approaching death, he
sought in strong stimulants vigor for
his exhausted nerves, and over the dy-
ing girls face he breathed the mephitic
poison of intoxication. SheP forgave
him, of course. Did any true woman
ever fail to forgive any fault in the man
she loved, and who she knew loved herP
1t is part of the exquisite economy of
nature. She said: 81 He loves me. He
is trying to keep up" And that was
forgiveness.
October, with its scarlet glories, pass
ed away; sullen November came, and
the whirring flocks of birds flew south,
leaving the chilling north for the com
ing SHOWS. A few days before Thanks
giving Eunice began TO feel that the
end was near. Lois and Walter were
at her bedside; her heartbroken father,
exhausted by many nights of watching,
buried his face in his hands to hide his
grief. Eunice asked that her wedding
dress might be spread out on chair
where she could see it. Smothering
her sobs, Lois obeyed. Then the veil,
the orange blossoms, the gloves, the
slippers. Taking one of the latter in
her almost lifeless hand, Eunice gazed
with fervent joy upon its silken pansies,
and, half dreamily, said:
Dear LOIS, ought to bid you wear
these on your wedding day! o. may
some noble heart love you as you de-
serve to be loved; may some one whom
you will honor and trust take you to
wife, and cherish you as tenderly as
you have cherished me-"
Poor Lois! Unable longer to control
herself, she hurried out of the room,
and in the gray solitude of the silent
porch bid her tears flow; and when the
paroxysm was past she returned smil-
ing to Eunice.
mo" resumed the latter, with a
pitiful affectation of gaiety, "you will
dress me for the coffin as-as-I was to
have been Walters wife,
And in the stiffness OF midnight
death came.
obeyed. In the rich toilet of the bride
that was to have been lay Eunice in
her coffin, and as the first snow-fakes
of the year lazily descended, on the
afternoon of Thanksgiving day, she was
laid in the grave. There was no Thanks
giving in the town that day. No dinners
were spread; no healths were drunk.
Life struck sharp on death makes awful
lightning.
Rumors, scarcely credited; of resur-
rectionists" and body-snatching' had
been carried about from time to time,
and Walter Garth, ashamed to make
the suggestion, and yet compelled by
affection for Eunice, resolved to watch
her grave. He armed himself; hired
trusty fellow to accompany him, and,
bidding fearful good-by to Lois and
her father. left them without limiting
his purpose or his destination. Worn
out in body and unnamed in spirit, he
drank several times, and drank deeply
on his way to the graveyard. At the
gate he met his companion, and to-
gether they began their weary and
silent journey among the tombstones.
The night was dark; the wind moaned
in pity and alright; through the fitful
clouds the moon shone at short inter-
walls, illumining the appalling scene.
A gentle layer of fresh snow had fallen.
In moment of moonlight Walter
thought he saw traces of footsteps on
the ground, on the very path leading
to the new mound-the mound under
which his Eunice lay in her bridal
robes. He quickened his pace, and his
companion began to falter. With tor
turing impatience he awaited another
gleam of moonlight. 1t came; he
stopped to satisfy himself that the
tracks he saw were really human foot
steps. With his hand he brushed aside
the snow, and touched some small OBJ
ject to which the lambent rays gave a
pale blue shade.
my Godr' he cried, in smothered
agony, sit is my fathers piper
He turned in terror-his companion
had not heard him. He was alone.
The hireling had fled.
Alone with the moon and the tomb
stones, which seemed to cry out to him:
Be quick, be quickp' He ran. The
moon withdrew her light. He STUN
bled over graves, and hurt himself on
the jutting corners of monuments. He
was almost at Eunice's grave. Dizzi-
ness began to overpower him. He
cursed himself for having ever tasted
liquor, and damned the demon that, un-
der the name of alcohol, was fast steal
ing his brains away. He was almost at
her grave. The moon came to his res
cue; the clouds opened. Two men
were there, one white-haired, one a
lusty youth. They had the body before
them; they were stripping it. Out with
his revolver, and Walter aimed as best
he could. In another instant he was
overpowered. In another the tomb
stones were startled by a sharp report.
Walter Garth lay dead beside her who
was to have been his wife. In the
morning he was found there, shrouded
under heavy fall of snow, his own re-
volver at his side. People said it was
no wonder; he could not survive Eunice;
and when ,Ioh Mallory went over tn
GaIth's Orchard" to console old CAT
fer, who had now funeral to attend to
in his own house, the bereaved father,
summoning all his fortitude, said be-
tween his sobs:
"Thankee, Mr.. Mallory. I'll get on.
Never fear for me. God is good to
CATER Garth"
~.
Seven years hurry away. To the