Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1883-01-15
Misfellane0ms.
AFuneraI in . Nining-camp.


ness that the compassionate epithet might
eventually apply nearer home. OF such
frail clay were they themselves fashioned.
A delay. inexplicable to Conrath's
friends, in the reply to their telegram to
his father. reused good deal of feeling
among them 1t was hastily assumed
that Conrath's family had ..gone back on
him. The facts of the case were. that
when the telegram reached New York.
his father was on shipboard between that
city and Havana, where his wife had been
ordered by her physician to spend the
winter The silence was certainly far
from paternal. The camp was sensitive
on the point Of its relations with the east,
especially in the event Of death. What
ever their indifference or faithlessness 10
their eastern ties during life, the men OF
Conrath's rank on the frontier confidently
expected those ties to contract in the ex-
IRENE moment, and restore them to their
early associations.
Without waiting for the silence of Con-
rath's fsiher to be explained, the Sho-
shoDe partisans rose in wrathful champion
ship of their insulted comrade. and said:
IF they can't bury him decent'y, damn
him, we'll bury him ourselves" The
case OF the living sister could wait ON that
OF the dead brother.
1t was on this honorable errand Cash
wiler had come. when he encountered
Hilgard in the first strong agony Of his
bereavement.
Gashviler did not see Miss Conrath,
but he had long and exciting argument
with Molly. who protested that her mis-
tress should not be disturbed on this or
other business. She had met Cecil in the
passage, after her parting from Hilgard.
and, with a sure instinct, the girl had
known that the hour of her young mis-
tress's extremity was come. She indig
nantlv repudiated. in her mstress's name,
the offered honors to the dead.
Wouldn't ye leave her even the body !?
Sure, she'll never sit behind that hearse-
trailin' through the streets along with the
lot Of you. an your music an your
mil't'ryi She's not proud of his dyin'.
that she'd want the whole camp to be
throopin' after i'm. The least ye can do
is to leave him to her now ~
But Molly could not prevail alone
against the resolute sympathy Of Conrath' .
constituency. All she conld do was to
soften the proposition by little merciiu!
deception, and present it as decent, kind
ly offer to give the chief of the Shosbone
appropriate burial at the hands of his fell
w-Masons and comrades of the militia
regiment to which he had belonged. Cecil
gave her helpless consent, with the condi-
ton that all the expenses should be re-
fer. ed 10 her father. She was too tar
FRUSTRATED in body, rs well as in spirit, to
know more of the last scene in the tragedy
of her life, than such dreary echoes as
penetrated the darkened seclusion OF her
chamber.
Conrath's body was borne out of the
house and conveyed to the camp, where it
lay in state in the unfinished hall of the
new Masonic Temple, to be gazed upon
by the multitude. IL was subsequently,
enshrined in plumed hearse, drawn by
sight horses, ted on hay at one hundred
dollors a ton. 1t was preceded by the
regiment of militia. keeping step through
the miry snow of the street. with guns
reversed. 10 the measures of the Dead
March. The band which furnished the
music was attached to one of the principal
variety theaters. and in the intervals of Its
regular performance, was often required to
assist mt funerals where the camp publicly
hono.ed some favored actor in its social
dramas. on his exit from the stage. The
Masonic society marched behind the
hearse in full regalia. followed by the
fire companies and the populace. The
latter had turned out promiscously. on
foot. or mounted on Livery horses" of
uncertain gait and temper. and might be
relied on to appear at any point in the
procession, according to its caprice, join
ing the ranks of the Masons. the military
or the firemen, and keeping mp a current
flow Of conversation on topics more o.
less relevant to the occasion. The cor
tege moved on slowly along the princi-
pal streets of the town. and ont through
its struggling suburbs to the cemetery.
The cemetery was a grim, INTENDED
spot, an acre of the primitive tir-torest.
sloping westward toward the valley, and
exposed TO the winds that blew across
from the snow-covered peaks. The fire
and the AK had passed over the forest,
and the nakedness of the land was left rs
the inheritance of that peaceful commu-
nifty which had pitched its low tent on the
bleak slope. A few stumps and stark.
blackened piue-trunks. a few young, slight
trees. the sole mourners of the forest, sup
plemented the scant memorials raised to
the human dead. Implanted boards
marked alike the graves of those who
awaited at the hands of distant friends
removal to a more permanent resting
place. the graves of the poor and the un-
known. and the graves of those whose
place of rest was of less importance to
the general public than its finality. The
camp graveyard. like the camp itself.
was periptetic. The city was at that time
rcserving the money it might Rave spent
on its adornment. in contemplation of its
removal to another spot.
The heavy. soft snow had sunk and
melted under the glare of the sun. and
lay in patches. like linen spread to bleach
offering grotesque. irreverent sugges-
ton that the dwellers in those sunken
mounds might have risen in the night and
washed their earth stained cerements in
readiness for the pending order to ''move
camp" The funeral PROCESSION. invad-
ing this desolaie Enclosure. took nothing
from its haggard loneliness. 1t was i'm
possible to associate the place with human
love and reverence. or even with human
ity's last enduring rest.
Conrath's body was lowered into the
alien soil. His final allotment of it was
small. and was grudged by none. Here
no locator encroached upon his neighbors
claim. and the original boundry lines were
kent inyiolate A brief stiffness fell upon