The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1883-02-24

he quoted the line, Hark from the
tombs doleful sound" which he said
was the voice of Piety Ann a.asking for
her deWs. lie once referred to the de-
parted iady rs . a extra fine cabbage
olier' and again as "a bewingled an
gel: After each assertion as to her ex
cellent qualities he asked in mournful
accents, Aln'tthatso, Brother Brown ?"
10 winch brother Brown would always
reply with a lugubrious "yes," and
pod OF his erief-laden head.
with prayer in which brother Smart
earnestly desired that g each members
heart might be putrefed, the services
We're closed.
[ dreamed that night that Mrs. Bisbon
passed our front door bearing Brother
Brown IN an immense blue bag toward
the cemetery, and that she was repeat
ing again and again the sentence. " Oh.
men IS so owdaciousl" Was that bag to
haunt me even in my dreams?
"Ef you'll look in that spIint basket
on the table, said Mrs. Bishop to me
when she called to return the veil.
you'll lind some partridge eggs Dood
ney sent you. Seem like that chile amt
never done a-thinkin' about you an your
maw."
How Is Doodney?" inquired my
mother, who had grown quite attached
TO the little fellow as a member OF her
Sunday school class.
Why, he's quite peaked an pinin'
from some cause or 'n'er. I've been a
doctorln him, too, with shuck-tea.
plne-"ater, an boneset, but it didn't
pear to do no good.
III send Dr.. Holmes out this even
ing, said my mother with decision.
" lie may need immediate care.
On the next morning my mother and
l drove out to Mrs. Bishops house, q
distance OF five miles. to iuquite after
Dooduey, and carry him some deIica-
cies. We found INN hot and restless
with fever, but he gave US sweet smile
OF welcome, and chung closely to my
mothers prOtfered hand
All during our stay his bright. dis
tended eyes were fastened with a dumb
affection on her face and when we came
to leave he painted ont, 81 likes you. [
DO for true. as | likes Your little girl an
likes the Sunday school, too. "
wish we could take him home with
US, mamma" [ said earnestly as We
drove away, he is so bright and quick:
I'm sure YOU cOuld teach him to be
very nice boy when he is we'll again. "
'Henever viii be well again, my child, ="
she answered with tears IN her voice.
8 He was the brightest and best of my
little class, and I would gladly have
trained him to higher standard, but
Death viii soon teach him more than
this melancholy world doth know.
Her words were prophetic. Little
DOOdneY died the next day, and two
days later We went out to the funeral.
As we neared the door Mrs Bishop
came out to meet us, and for the first
tune we saw her without the bag.
Depict to yourself our establishment
when, on entering the room to take
last look at our dear little friend. we
found that the bright blue object so
long familiar to us as bag, had been
transformed into pair of little trousers
and III these Dieu-dOnne, now Dieu-pris,
was clothed for his last, long sleep.
81 reckin' you'll recognize them
S1CO-ICos SttLti MIS-. DtHuoD is she
gazed at the quiet, little figure through
dripping tears. II sot a heap o store
by that bag, she continued. 81 bought
1t two yer ago to kerry about and be
handy to put things ia, but seems like
l couldn't never make up my mind to-,
use 1t. 1t 'peared to be a shame to soil
il. So ] ies' KEEP a-kerryin' Oft, more fur
q ornament like than anythiu' else
Doodney," with broken voice, " allus
egmlred the bag so much that when the
poor little fellow come to die, says j, I'll
make purity little pair OF breeches
outen 1t and put on him, an it'll kinder
make him feel more cheerfuller like when
he wakes up all strange, an so fur from
his paw an me.
So thus at last the matter was ex-
planned, and from this simple and touch
ing recital | learned both the history and
the mystery Of the bag.
Time has wiped out many pictures of
that past, but not less vivid to-day than
when l saw If last is the one of little
Dieu-donne, lying ready for his early
grave, his yellow hair, black lashes and
pallid brow brought out in strong relief
by the bright blue of the lutte trousers
which were to cheer him when he woke,
and which bad so long haunted me III
the shape Of his mothers bag.