The People's vindicator. [volume] (Natchitoches, La.) 1874-1883, 1880-11-13

sir" ne began.
eyes, it is"
"Haye You any folks here, sir!"
mo, no one. But come here sometimes
for stroll"
eyes, l've seen you about. Well, It's 9
nice, quiet place for walk, but the ground;
amt KEEP TIP quite the shape they used "a
be: there amt so much occasion for it.
seems A. though the buryin' business was
dull, like pretty much every thing else now
eyes, that's 500 replied Putnam ab.
sently.
The gatekeeper spat rehectiyeIy upon the
CENTER of the doorstep, and resumed:
"rhere's some that comes here quite liar,
but they mostly have folks here. There's
old Mrs. Lyon comes very steady, and there's
young Miss Pinckney: she's one Of the most
reg'!ar:"
us that the young lady in gray, with black
eyes"
"That's She"
! "WhO is she in mourning fOr:"
"Well, she amt exactly In mourning. l
guess, from what they say, she hain't got
the money for black bunnets and dresses.
poor gal! But it's her brother that's buried
here-last April. He was in the hospital
learning the doctors business when he was
took down."
| do YOU know"
"Weli, that I can't say: like enough he
was"
ibid you say that she Is poor.'
| $50 they was telling me at the funeral. It
was a mighty poor funeral toO-nOt mOre'n
a couple of hacks. But you can't tell much
from that, with the fashions now .a.days !:
some Of the richest folks buries private like.
| You don't see no such funerals now as they
had ten years back. I've seen fifty kerridges
to Onst a-cOmin' In that gate" waving his
pipe impressivciy toward that piece OF arch
| itect,lre, "and that was when kerridge- hire
was half again az high as it is now. She must
have spent q goodly sum i'm greenhouse
4 1Dwers, though: fresh boQuets most every
day she keeps a-fetehin'," WI Il -|
"Well, good-day," said Putnam, starting
off. ii -.
| "GOol-day. sir" ,J
Putnam had himself just completed his
studies at the medical college when attacked
| by fever, and he now recalled somewhat
vaguely student Of the name Of Pinckney,
and remembered to have heard that he was
a Southerncr. The gatekecper's story in
creased the interest which he was beginning
to feel in his new acquaintance, and he re-
solved to follow up his inauspicious begin.
nings to better issue. He knew that great
delicacy would be needed IN making further
approaches, and 30 decided to keep out Of
next few days he ascertained, by visits to the
cemetery and talks with the keeper, that she
now seldom visited her brothers. grave in
the forenoon, although during the first
month after his death she had spent all her
days and some Of her nights beside It.
Putnam read the inscription on the tomb.
stone. which ran a. follows: ''To the
Memory OF Henry Pinckney. Born October
Ath, 1859. Died April 9th, 49," and
under this the text, 'Ifthou have borne him
hence, tell me where thou hast laid him."
He noticed with sudden twinge Of pity that
the flowers on the grave, though freshly
picked every day, were wild dowers-mOst.
the c0mmOu field varieties, with now and
then raref BLOSSOM from wood or swamp,
and now and then = garden flower. He gath.
cred from this that the sisters purse was
running low, and that she spent her morn.
ings in collecting flowers outside the city.
He determined that the shrine Of her deyO-
ton should not want richer offerings. There
was hot house on the way from his home
to the cemetery, and he now stopped there
occasionally Of morning and bought few
roses TO lay upon the mound. This cOntin.
ued for fortnight. Ope morning as he APP
preached the little grave.lot with his accus.
TONED offerings, he looked up and saw the
young girl standing before him. Her eyes
were fixed on the flowers in his hand. He
colored guiltily and stood still, like boy
caught rObbing On orchard. She looked both
surprised and embarrassed, but said at once:
III you are the gentleman who has been
vN,sHttwcp Ouv hpnthoRto II
SSankyou ~ ats, b43 a
She paused, and he broke In: III ought
to explain, Miss Pinckney, that l have : bet.
ter right thar, you think, perhaps, to bring
these flowers here; was fellow-student
with your brother IN the medical schocl." IN
IA Pa Know Sy &c s:ssS.
| g. lie leit like wretched hypocrite % he An.
swered, eyes. knew him, though not In
timately, exactly. But l took-I take
very strong interest In him."
Every one loved Henry who knew him."
she said, "but bis class have all been grad
uated aud gone away, and he made few
friends. because. he wasssO shy. No one
%Msy I come sometimesn 20
"You may come IL you wish to visit Hen
~. But don't bring any more Of those ex.
penslye flowers. suppose Il y selfish In
NE, but L can't bear to have any Of his
friends do more FOR him, than I cam"
II won't bring any more, OF course, II Il
troubles yoa, and thank you very much for
letting me come Good morning, Miss
Pinckney." He bowed and walked away.
! Putnam ayailed himself discreetly Of the
permission given. He came occasionally Of
an afternoon, and sat for an hour ut time.
Usually she said little. Her silence ap.
peared TO proceed not from reserve, but
from detection. Sometimes she spoke Of her
brother. Putnam learned that he had been
her only near relative. Their parents had
died In her childhood, and she had come
North with her brother when be entered the
once said Putnam inferred that her brother
had owned an annuity which died with him,
and that she had been left with little or
nothing. They had few acquaintances in
the North, almost none In the city. An aunt
10 the South had offered her . home. aud
che was going there In the fall. She looked
forward with dread to the time Of her de-
One day the two were sitting, As usual, ip
sileuce or speaking out rarely. TWAS day
In the very core OF summer, and the life Of
Nature was at its food. The shadows ofthe
trees rested 30 heavy and mo&ionless on the
grass that they appeared, 70 sink into Il and
weigh II down like pAlpable sGbssS1cts.
81 feel, said Putnam, suddenly, "as
though should live for ever"
"Did YOU ever doubt Il" che asked.
"Oh, / mean here-ici basin the body.
can't conceive Of death or Of . spiritual ex. !
6stenee o. such day q fhiAc y a9 !
''There is nothing here to live for" she,
aaidl YEARLY. Presently she sdded, ''This
hot glare makes me sick; wish those men !