Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1888-03-30
THE "HARMoNITep COMMUNITY.
Chat with an Aged ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
yard of George Rapp's Followers.

An aged Economic approaches us,
coming slowly down the shaded path
way. He is feeble, but his dark eyes are
very bright. His portly frame is clad in
the usual suit of blue, and he wears the
broad brimmed hat. There are pigs in
the field beside him; he losses them an
apple over the fence. They quarrel for
its possession, squealing in rage. He
laughs till his fat sides shake. He losses
them more apples, fairly exploding with
mirth as he watches them crowding and
jostling each other. So on he goes
out of sight, entirely oblivious of our
presence. The pigs follow him as far
as the boundary of the field will let
them, drowning his merriment with their
squealing.
This man may be said to be a typical
Economic. Innocent, honest, simple
minded. with little knowledge of the
great outside world and its complexities,
he is easily amused. l recall another
like him, the former keeper of the
orchard that incloses the old burying
ground, to which our ramble will soon
take us. He was an elderly parsonage,
little, spare and strangely deformed, but
of %singularly interesting mind. He was
quite comical and original without know
ing it. The childlike innocence of some
of his remarks was delightful. l visited
his little vine covered watch house very
often.
Closing ar eye and regarding me with
great gravity, he once said:
death is a funny fellow"
"Why so2"
"He has been playing with me thsse
ten years"
II do not understand"
"Look at me and see how bent l am.
1t for me is very hard to walk. People say
/ should long ago have died. But l am
here. Death takes younger people, and
laughs when he brings them here, "
pointing to the orchard.
"That is a joke you can enjoy"
$50 l do; l smile back at him. What
is there in death to make me afraid2"
A few weeks later l called to see the
little German at his post. His coy
watch house was there, covered with
luscious grapes that perfumed all the
air. My friend was not there, but fol-
lowing the direction of a German Ia
borer l found him. A mound was over
him, upon which some tiny morning
glory vines had already taken root.
Death, the joker, had grown more
earnest. l could not but wonder if death
was still a joke to the honest and kindly
little German.
Opening a white gate, August leads
the way into a spacious orchard, through
which runs a long, straight roadway.
On our right as we enter is a little vine
yard, so trim and perfectly kept that
one cannot but admire it. Not "a weed
mars the ground between the trellises.
The odor of the grapes is exquisite. On
our left is a peach orchard in full bear
ing, and the fruitage is worthy of Della
ware or Maryland. A little further on
begins a pear and apple orchard, which
extends for fully half a mile.
Here" said August, pausing, ''our
lead lie."
w 0 about us, nonplussed. Before
us is a square inclosure in the orchard.
fenced with white palings. Pear and
apple trees grow within; the grass
grown surface is very smooth. There
are no monuments, headstones, ratings,
flowers or evergreens; the place has the
appearance of a pasture.
Where are the graves, Augusta we
asked.
Deere, in de ground"
"But you cannot tell one from an
other."
IVY shoolt we; will God forget?"
Upon closer inspection we find some
new made graves near the fence, with
the earth heaped over them in the usual
form, but with nothing to designate
them. They are arranged in long rows
extending entirely across the Enclosure,
and the last row is now begun. When
complete, it will doubtless see the end of
the Harmony society. The old graves
are all level with the ground. and many
are entirely obliterated. Curiously, and
l trust typically, the plant called life
everlasting" grows owe them, and grass
and Towering vines run riot, being only
occasionally disturbed by the scythe. No
effort is made to beautify the place; but
it is a most impressive spot.
"Are many buried here, August"
"De Harmony society is dere," is the
sober answer.
Just beyond the burying ground is a
so called Indian mound" a relic of the
ancient Mound Builders. Over it grow
a few stately oaks and hickories, in the
shade of which benches have been ar
ranged in the form of a circle. There
the workmen in the orchard eat their
MONDAY meal. The mound has never
been explored, nor will the Harmonites
permit the ancient tumulus to be desc
Grated.
Near by is a frame building, in which
pears and apples are sorted and barreled.
H. d. Mason in American Magazine.