The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1883-10-07
Della Grimwet.

more commonplace than Kempton, a decrepit
little apology for n village, lying on the coast
of Maine. Properly speaking, however, no
seaport can be utterly commonplace, with its
I suggestion of the mystery of the sea, the ships,
the sailors who have been in.far lands, the
glimpses Of unwritten tragedies on every
hand. But among seaside villages Kempton
was surely dull enough, and dry enough, and
lifeless enough-as If the sea winds had sucked
its vitality, leaving it empty and pallid and
iuiceless, like the cockle-shells which bleached
upon its sandy beaches.
Yet Kempton had one popularity which
marked it as singular among all New Eng
land towns. Its one church stood
stark and doloful upon the bill at
whose foot, lay the rotting wharves; and
back from the church stretched the
churchyard in which the Kempton dead took
their long repose, scarcely more monotonous
than their colorless lives. The sexton, dig
cling their last resting places in the ochrey
loan, might look far off toward the sea
whence they had wrested from the grudgtng
waters a scanty subsistence; and tho dead
wives, if so be that their ears were yet
s~entient, might lie at night and hear below
the beat of the waves which afar had rolled
over the unmarked graves of their sailor hus-
bands. To and fro among the grass-grown
mounds the sexton went daily, quite un-
| MINDFUL u DtluB ~ hIlduo f
ton by belonging to the weaker sex. With
masculine stride and coarse hands, her I'M
kempt locks blown by the salt winds, the
woman went her way and did her work with
a steadfastness and a vigor which might have
put to shame many a man idling about the
boats under the hill. She was not an old
woman-not even m~iddle-aged, except with
the premature age of toll and sor-
row: but the weather-beaten face,
the STOPPING shoulders, and the
faded hair made her seem old. To look at
her, it was difficult to realize what her youth
could have been like, or to call up any image
of sweet or gracious maidenhood in which
she could have shared.
1t was a gray November day. The white
caps made doubly black the dark waves of
the bay, and the bitter wind blew freshly
through the withered grass and stubble,
chasing the faded leaves over Kempton hill
until they rushed about the old meeting
ouse like a flight of terrified witches. A
tranger was driving slowly up the road from
the next town in an open carriage, and as he
came to the top of the hill he drew rein be-
fore the church and looked about him
His gaze was not that of one who beheld
the scene for the first time. He gazed
down at the irregular houses under
the hill, cuddled like frightened and
weakened sheep. He looked over
the bay to the lighthouse, looming
chastity and white against the dark sea and
sky. His glance took in all the details of the
picture, cold and joyless, devoid alike of
warmth or color. He shivered and sighed,
his brows dropping more heavily yet over
his dark, piercing eyes, and then turned his
gaze to objects nearer at hand
Close by was the stark church, with
weather beaten steeple, wherein half a dozen
| ranaratfnpg nf KamDtnn woman fine men.
for most part, being at sea, had worshiped
the power of the storm, praying more for the
escape from evil of the absent ones than for
good to themselves. Beyond the church ap-
pearod the first headstones of the graveyard,
the ground sloping away so ra pidly that
little more than the first row G. slate slabs
was visible from the street. With another
shiver MI. Farnsworth for by that name
the gentleman played his part upon this
worlds stage), got down from his carriage,
fastened his horse, and walked toward
the stones, whose rudely-chiseled cherubs
leered at him through their moss viii u dia-
bolic and sinister mirthfulness.
As Mr.. Farnsworth opened the sagging and
implanted gate of the enclosure, he became
aware that the place was not empty. Tn
head and shoulders of n human being were
visible halfway down the hill, partially OBJ
scured by the dull-reddish heap of earth
thrown up from II partially-dug grave.
The visitor made his way down the irregu'
lar path, so steep us to be almost like a rude
flight of stairs, and, as he neared the worker
he suddenly perceived, with something of a
shock. that the grave-digger was n woman.
She worked as if familiar with her task-a
mans battered hat pushed back from her
forehead, over which her faded haiI
struggled in confusion, and acros
,ubfrh rarfoiu urimV ctraaEG hOrp wit
ness that she had not escaped the prima
curse, but la bored in the sweat of her brow
Kempton's popularity in the matter of it
sexton had not come to the stranger be
fore, although he once had known thu
village life somewhat intimately. He
regarded the woman with a double curl
osity-to see what she was like and whether
perchance he had ever known her. Hi
paused as he neared her, resting one nicely
gloved hand upon u tilted stone which per
petuated the memory and recorded the viz
tues of a captain who reposed in some chill
cove under the northern seas. Some Sigh
sound caught the cor of the sexton, whC
until then had not perceived his approach
she looked up at him stolidly, and as stolidly
looked down again, continuing her worl
without interruption. II there remained am
consciousness of the strangeness of her occu'
patton, or il there stirred any wOmanly
shame to be observed, they were betrayed By
no outward sign. She threw up the dull
yellow earth at the feet of the newcomer
as unmoved as if she had still ouly the
jewellers in the graves as companions of her
labor.
Don't you find this rather har,
work, my good womanF the gentleman
inquired at length, more by way o.
breaking the silence than from any especia
interest.
Eyes" the sexton returned impassively
otis hard enough"
at is rather unusual work for a woman
too" he said.
To this very obvious remark she returne'
no answer, a stone to which she had come Il
her digging seeming to absorb all her atten
ton. She unearthed the obstacle with som,
difficulty, seized it with her rough hands, an,
threw it up at the feet OF the stranger, VIII
watched it with that idle interest which labo
begets in the unconcerned observer.
"Do you always do this workF Farm.
worth asked at length.
Eyes" was the laconic return.
But the old sexton-Joe Grimwet-is b
goneF'
The woman looked up with SOM interes
at this indication that the other had som
previous acquaintance with Kempton and ii
people. She did not, however, stop he
labor, as a man would probably have done
Yes she said. He's buried over yonds
there beyond the burdocks"
The gentleman changed his position VI
easily. Some subtitle disquietude had arise
to disturb his serenity. The wind rustic
mournfully among the dry leaves, the pei
bles ratified against the spade of the grav
digger, increasing tho sombreness of a seer
which might easily affect one at all ruscept
BILE to outward influences. In such an atmo