Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-12-09

on the bounty Of GoodwiFe Slower.
They might all remember, too, ifthey
chose, Goody Cole, whom they had
left to the tender mercisa Of woman
they called . witch. was the widow Of
a man that had lost his life carrying
helploa vessel On which were the
fathers and husbands Of people still
alive and in this angry crowd. Goody
Cole had been too proud to go on the
parish, and her neighbors half CEN
tuiy ago had sworn that she should
never come TO want. Now, only the
charity Of this Quaker woman from
Freeport had kept her from actual
starvation.
"Oh, but she was my iifel't quay
reti-the''es~-4sLt,..,,, a 81
and over. "Oh, but she was my life r.
Pricked to the heart, two other
women, almost young enough to be.
Goody Coles granddaughters, came
ont from the crowd and kneeled be-
side her, bowling their heads with sobs
upon the coffin. There was rustic
and stir among the bystanders. They
knew we'll enough what cause for graf.
itudo these two had. Every body
know all that happened on Harpswell
Neck, and remembered now how to
one Of these women Goodwife Slower
had come in the a9onizing horror of
childbirth, a saving angel and how
beside the bed of the second she had
watched when malignant disease
kept every other woman on the Neck
away,
"Oh, but she was my life !" shrilled
Goody Cole, her voice rising in a
thrilling strain which made the ex-
cited women SILVER as if with cold.
The crowd Of fsh-wivos wsvered.
Then Goodwifo Mayo, whose stout
muscles had out. tired those Of all tho
other bearers on the long march from
Elkniah Stover's cottage to the shadow
of the square meeting house in which
they stood, strobe forward again to.
the coffin. She set her arms akimbo
and looked about her.
"And ye, Betty Hincks," she de-
manded, "who gave ye that cloak ye're
wearing this very hour2 And ye,
Martha Hastings, who brought ye
through the fever last fal2 And ye,
Andrew Gates, who nursed your wife
in haying-time2 If Hannah Slower
was a witch, we'll would it be for
Harpswell Neck if we had more Of
them"
"Oh, but she was my life p came
in the piercing cry Of Goody Cole, like
a refrain rising still higher and higher.
ooh, but she was my life |"
Take up the bier" Priest Eaton
cried, with a gesture at once Of digni.
ty and Of command. BURY her whsr
ever these men will. The ground will
be consecrated wherever her body
lies. Take it to the Devils Den" he
went on, the occasion inspiring him
with unwonted fire, "end tell you
the DEVILS Den will be holy if Good
wife Stover's corpse comes there
A wave Of sudden feeling swept
over the people like mighty wind.
AS if obeying common impulse, they
rushed forward with aobs and broken
CALCULATIONS, to raise the bier.
But Goodwife Mayo waved them
back
"No," she said mo man shall touch
this bier. The women that have
brought it 30 far in spite Of their hus-
bands orders can carry it the rest of
the way "
There was a murmur Of mingled
assent, contrition and remembrance
but it was in the end as Goodwlse
Mayo said.
Followed by all the men, even to
Ezra Johnston, who scowled but yield
ed to the tide Of feeling he could not
turn back, the women OF Harp9well
Neck bore the body Of Hannah Slower
to her resting place in the consecrated
ground Of the old graveyard.
ave have buried a witch" John
ston muttered under his breath, as
they left the sacred spot.
But in solemn rebuke Priest Eaton
answered him
Owe have made the grave Of a
saint.
--Eyum Me Coma0poijbuM