St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1882-01-20
Hannah Jane

Poor old man he walked feebly and
discOnsolately about the leaf strewn
cemetery and paused now and then
with weak, irresOlute air of uncer-
tainty that betOkened Il failing and
troubled mind he seemed to be look
ing for some one or something, and
yet he did not stay his footsteps at any
of the graves, and he passed the cost
liest monuments without glance.
Presently he retraced his way and
seeking here and there among the I'M
marked graves in the same listless,
dazed way, approached Il laborer being
i'll one of the avenues and asked, trem
ulOusly:
"Can you tell me where Hannah
Jane is buried, my friend ?"
The man looked up roughly, and if
the speaker had been arrayed i'll fine
broadcloth, with weed in his hat, he
would have given him an ungracious
answer; but he saw a thin old face set
in Il frame of white hair, bent and
shrunken form in humble garb, and he
answered respectfully:
"WhO did you say, sir-wOt name ?"
"Hannah Jane; she's my wife, you
know, and because of my son they bu-
ried her here instead of down in the
country graveyard, where we used to
live years ago. My sons big man
heTe-a business maitland he gave us
lot worth two hundred dollars to
bury her in. | bought Virginny rose
and il sweet briar and some sweet will
liams and planted on it; mebbe you'd
know it now
81 don't know as l do" said the
workman gently, "but if you think you
can tell me about where the grave is,
I'll try and help ye."
They walked up and down for lit
tie, then the old man stopped beside a
splendid white marble shaft that rear
ed its fair proportions far above the
neighbOring monuments, and shaking
his head feebly, said with the old IT.
resolution
''It's very strange, an | can't make
it out at all-mebbe Pm gettin' old,
but l was sure this was the spot"
The workman put up his hand to
hide smile.
That ere grave don't look like as it
ever had sweet william planted on it,
does it, old man? I'm favorable to
them flowers myself. Halo. WOt
did you say the name was? ~
Hannah Jane" answered the old
man, reverently lifting his hat from his
white hair, ''and wherever you are,
my dear, God bless you!" he added,
looking up to heaven.
oval, now" said the workman. get
ting down on his knees to look at the
lettering on the brand-new shaft, ''this
beats me. Here's a II and Jane /;
what's the rest of the name? Foster ~
Eyes, yes" answered the old man,
eagerly then a look of bitter disap-
pointment crept over his face. 'You
don't mean it, he said slowly, "they've
never gone and put their great monu-
ment over Hannah Jane, she that
wanted birds and flowers and the sun
shinin' and the dew fallin' on the spot
where she slept; she that built a lad
der to the skies in good deeds and was
humber than little child, and would
rayther have had a board at her head,
down in the old graveyard, with plain
Hannah Jane on it carved by me 1t
don't seem right, that's all !"
He went away sadly and lingeringly
and he never came back, but the man
he talked TO planted sweet williams
and rose slips on the grave and it looks
strange to see them tangled in wild
profusiOn about the stately marble,
and whenever he sees funeral stop
near that spot he looks to see if anOth-
er grave is dug there, ''fOr some day"
he says to himself while he works, "my
old man will come back to his Hannah
jane Free Press.