Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1881-05-12
An Autumn Nights Dream.

| IVY ON the CnurCh YaDleS WAS III HOWeTI
and the honeysuckle on the mossy church
yard had put forth its second blossoms,
Chimney swallows and house martins con
gregated in scores upon the hchened
church roof, warming their wings in the
mild Autumn sunshine for fight to glow
ing lands beyond the sea, and starlinss
mustered in hundreds upon the Downs that
swelled around the churchyard in mighty
waves of perfect calm.
But the birds had gone TO sleep for the
night-all except the hooting brown OWL
as travel bronzed, travel-stained man
walked over the downs, dragging his feet
wearily in spite of the springiness of the
thy my turf, beneath full moon which
made the shallow little chalk bottomed
sheep ponds flash with silvery radiance. 1t
was very still night. There was scarce
the faintest sight of a breeze TO stir the
! bramhle sprays The hooting of the owl,
and now and then the drowsy tinkle OF a
sheep bell were the only sounds floating
over the great land sea Of huge waved
peace; but there was no calm in the
travellers breast.
On he plodded toward the churchyard.
There, after ali his wanderings, he had
come back to find, was his only home, if
kindred make home; but 1t was home
in which he could hear no hearty shout.
receive no clinging kiss of welcome. the
lips of all his kindred were sealed in ever
lasting silence, if not crumbied into dust.
he entered the churchyard by the lych-
gate, laid his knapsack ON the dewy grass,
and sat down with his back against the
wall In front of the stone their was his
family register.
The cnurchyard was crowded with
graves, but he had gone straight 10 the one
of which he was in search, because he re-
membered the corner where the primroses
and Lent-lilies grew in which his mother
had often wished TO be laid, and felt sure
since she had died before his fatner, that
her wish had been gratifed.
There was the tall stone, inscribed with
name after name, hers first upon the list.
the latter entries crowded In smller let
tiers.
All his close kindred were buried In one
grave, before which he seated himself, and
longed TO be able TO roll back the years, TO
De again at home respected and teloved, no
stain or shadow Of future shame upon his
name, with an intensity that made his heart
literally as well as figu aIively ache. He
could not weep. The fountain Of his tears
had long been dried up, and, deprived of
that relief for his feelings it seemed to
him that he must 60 mad. He raised a
wild cry that rang wearily over the still
Downs. The startled birds whlrled from
their roosting places in the ivy, and wheeled
round the church in black cloud.
Ere long, however, they settled again,
and the way farer was again staring at the
moonlit hesdstone in hopeless stiffness.
Hour after hour the church clock rang
out 10 a voice cracked With age, whilst the
moonlight in quiet frolic marked fantastic
time upon the sun dial. The last stroke of
one had just died away, when the wand
erer started. The headstone fell fiat, the
grave opened, and he was in his mothers
arms. My son, my son, she sobbed, 'at
last, after these many weary, weary years.
And then from the grave rose brothers and
sisters, some of whom greeted him but
coldly; and last Of all his father, who
frowned and turned aside without speak
ing.
But the weeping mother made peace be-
tween the son and the father whom he had
disgraced, and the brothers and sisters
whose portions he had squandered. The
years had been rolled back. He was
young man once more, forgiven after some
mad prank by his father, the idol of his
mother, the darling of his sisters, the model
hero of his little brothers.
The autumn moon went solemnly down;
but in its stead there rose the sun of spring.
Other graves gave up their dead. 1t was
May Sunday morning, and the country
side churchgoers, when they had come out,
stopped to chat with their neighbors in the
churchyard. The wanderer saw faces,
heard tones, that h. had not seen or heard
for half lifetime; but it seemed quite
natural that he should do oso--the years had
been rolled back
Instead of mastering for departure,
swallows had come again from their winter
quarters. Blackbirds, thrushes, skylarks,
woodlarks, tltlarks, goldhnches and green
inches, wrens and robins, yellowhammers
and whitethFoats, were singing; in the
hanger, sloping down to the pasture tufted
with paigles, more than one nightingale
might be heard. The tuft of the Downs
was white-as if milk had been split up
on it-with the flowers Of sandwort and
rogation flower, fmze and bee haunted
broom were out in all their glory, the Ring
Wood was pink and white with the
blossoms of wild pear trees, crabs, and
rowans. The oak, the beech, the maple,
the barberry, the horse chestnut were also
in flower. The lIly-of-the-valley and the
wood sorrel shook their soundless little
fairy team bells in the warm breeze that
had stolen into their cool hiding places.
Forget-me-nots, Veronicas, and brooklime
made earth look sky-like with their streaks
and specks, and patches of brilliant blue in
places moist and dry. Buttercups and
daisies were scattered over the green earth
broadcast.
The strangely united family came to the
leafy lane, at the bottom of which sto I'd
the old farm house, in the midst of few
remnant ricks and straw stacks, looking out
conplacently on the springing crops it next
should garner. There was the orchard,
with the apple trees and the old medlar
tree In blossom, and the walnut and the
mulberry coming out in leaf; lilac and
laburnum, toxglove and flags, columbine
and peonIes, were blooming in the gard en-,
and over the little moat hung guelder roses
and elder flowers. The old dog got up flom
his lounge on the warm step OF the open
door, and wagged his stump Of a tail to
greet the wanderer, but onIy as if he had
been away for couple of hours, instead of
some forty years. The leisurely, better
than ordinary Sunday dinner followed,