The Osceola times., 1882-04-22
A GRAVEYARD TALE.
A Strange Old Mantle Mockery Of Grief
He Has Witnessed at the Tomb-A Story
Of n Blighted Home.
Philadelphia Press.


Philadelphia Press.
81 play the nnal act in the great drama
Of life, sir" said the grave-digger of an
up town cemetery, as he tossed the last
shovelful of wet clay out of newly
made grave few days ago. This is tine
bed we all come to some day, and its
quiet and snug if it's nothing else. Any
relation ia the body expected here this
9f;ernoon?"
"No,p was the reply of man who was
leaning against tree watching the other
at work. No, am only looking round
the cemetery"
Like to look at the monuments, chi
Pretty, amt they? Ever notice what an
angel man becomes when he gets BIT
of marble on the top of him? They're
all virtuous husbands, and the best Of
friends, and highly esteemed and re.
spected by all who knew 'em in letters
guaranteed not to be affected by the
weather."
There was something uncanny about
the grave-digger as he leaned on his
spade ana delivered himself of the above
remarks. He was tall. gaunt man
about 60 years of age, with an, intellectual
face, and a cynical expression fixed on
his lips. He looked like man who had
seen different days, times far moro pros
porous than the present; like man who
lived under the shadow of great grief,
and who found comfort in his mournful
occupation and surroundings.
Did you ever consider, as you walked
along the streets and watched the
crowds on the sidewalks pushing and
struggling in the race Of life, that sooner
or later every one of them must have a
funeral?'
The man, leaning against the tree, who,
by the by, happened to be Press re-
porter, started and looked around. The
digger had disappeared and his voice
seemed to come from the bowels OF the
earth The next moment his head
peered above the grave; he was planking
the sides.
Did that ever strike you, sr?" con-
tinued the deliver, as he leaped out of the
trench and sat down on an adjacent
tombstone.
81 suppose the thought has been with
me-" was the reply. I'VE must all die
eventually"
Yes, and batter you down, tram
pie you in. Go on in your tracks, | say,
go on in your tracks, but I'll tuck you in
tho resurrection bed stead at last. Four
plapks nailed together and liberal sup
pig Of green sods. Nothing mean about
the cemetery company; you bring me
your ashes and we'll provide you with
all the earth you want, he! hel"
"You seem to like your blsiness,' said
the reporter, shuddering at the low
chuckle of the other. II shouldn't"
Like it, he he like it2 Well, !
can't say it's the most cheerful profess
sion to which a man can belong. Not
much conviviality anyhow in it except
when the undertaken is good-natured
and brings fiat bottle in the back pock-
ct of his breeches but there's good
deal of queer human nature about it,
and graye-digger. sees and hears much
more than most people think. Grief
know what grief is, I've suffered it I've
felt it, now | watch for it in others, and
how often do / see il? Not too often.
If there's one thing have a greater sus-
picion of than anything else, it's tears.
Lord, I've seen 'em come down by the
gallon and actually wiped my own eyes
in sympathy, and day or two afterward
I've met the same party with the power
ful supply of water in the head, looking
as happy and as contented in his nice,
new, black clothes as though a hearse
and pair were all imagination. Grief
should last for years, forever Look at
me, bah! what was saying?"
Last summer / buried man who was
followed to the vault by his young wife.
You should have just seen her go on.
Sb: leaned on the shoulder of young
,han with SNUG face and choker collar,
and drowned his shirt front with her
tears. When the coffin was lowered she
tried TO throw herself in the grave, only
the smug-iaced man wouldn't let her
You're pretty attentive l thinks, Il
wonder If you are any relationp So |
asked the undertaken after while. Re
lation, says he, no, but he soon will be-
She didn't care a pins head for him
down there. lie was old and ugly, and
led her the devil of life, and was al
ways threatening to leave his money TO
the hospital However, he dropped
down dead IN the middle of cursing her
30 she's all rightly fixed now; $4,000 at
least. All that eye piping business was
put on Then who's smug-faced?'
asked. oh ? says the undertaken, with
grin, you mean the young man as a
wouldn't let her throw herself on the
top of the coffin; that's the young gen.
tleman who courted her before she mar
ried the old man. and guess he'll be re-
wsrded for his patience now and the
cofiin-maker got into his carriage and
drove off. As | was filling up that grave
] meditated a little to myself "If spirits
are what the spirits are reported to be
/ wonder what the spirit of the old boy
wnthere thinks of the last little bit of
conversation" Well, other funerals
came and went and had forgotten all
about the young widow and Mr. Snug
face, until one day in August | saw the
pair coming along the path, arm-in-arm.
They walked up to the old husbands
grave, chatting and laughing together,
and | crouched behind tombstone un-
preceived, for l wanted to hear what
they were saying.
Don't you think Portland granite will
dor says he.
"Wny. no, dear says she, let it be
marble, what would people think after
leaving me all the money!
"'That wasn't his fault, the old brute
he replies. How you did cry on the
day OF the funeral, Mary. You managed
it we'll
"'Did /, dear?' she says, did |? well, it
was such release
HE put his arm around her waist and
kissed her, and whispered something in
her ear, and she whispered something
back and kissed him, and they sat on the
tombstone opposite the dead husbands
grave all that afternoon MASKING each
other like o'clock. Now, If that was