Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1889-02-08

that.
Ida bent her tall frame against the rain
and gale, and fought her way through it AT
first she had no clear idea as TO where she
was going, but gradually, perhaps from
custom, she took the path that ran across the
fields to Honham church 1t was a beautiful
old church, and had originally been founded
by the Boissey family, and enlarged (particu-
larly as regards the tower, which had been
partially blown down and rebuilt about the
timo of Charles l, and was one Of the finest
in the country by the widow of one Of the
De la Molles whose husband had fallen at
Agincourt, as a memorial forever. There,
updn the porch were carved the "hawks" Of
the De Ia Molles, wreathed round with palms
of victory; and there, too, within the chancel,
hung the warriors helmet and his dinted
shield.
Nor was he alone, for all around lay the
dust of the illustrouS dead, come after the toll
and struggle of their stormy lives to rest
within the walls of that old church. Some of
them had monuments OF alabaster, where they
lay in effigy, their heads pillowed upon that Of
a conquered Saracen; some had monuments Of
oak and brass, and some had no monuments
at ALL for the PuritanS had ruthlessly
destroyed them. But they were nearly all
there, some twenty generations of the bearers
of an ancient name, for even those of them
who had persisted on the scatfold had been
borne hero for burial. The whole place was
eloquent Of the dead and of the mournful les
SON of mortality. From century to century
the bearers of that name had walked in these
fields, and lived in yonder castle, and looked
upon the familiar swell of yonder ground
and the silver flash of yonder river, and now
their dust was gathered here, and all tn
forgotten turmoil Of their lives was lost IL
the silence of their narrow tomb
Ida loved the spot, hallowed to her not only
by the altar of her faith, but also by tho
human associations that chung round and
clothed it as tho ivy clothed its walls. Hero
she had been christened, and here among her
ancestors she hoped to be buried also. Here
as a girl she used, with her brother James, to
creep in awed silence and look through tho
window when the full moon was up, at tho
white figures stretched in their silence within.
Here, too, she had sat for Sunday after Sun.
day for more then twentt years. and stare
OF the quaint Latin inscriptions cut on mar
Die slabs, which recorded the almost super
human virtues of departed De la Mollcs q
the Seventeenth and Eighteenth centuries, het
own immediate ancestors Tlc .lace was
familiar tc her whole life; she had scarcely a
recollection with which it was not in some
way CONF ted it was not wonderful there
fore, that she loved it, and that in the trouble
of her mind her feet shaped their course
toward it.
Presently she was there in the churchyard,
and, taking her stand under the shelter of a
line of Scotch frs, through which the gale
sobben and sung, leaned against a side gate
and looked. The scene was deSolate enough;
the rain dropped from the roof on to the sod
dCu graz IS beneath, and ran IN thin sheets
dow iiint facing of the tower; the dead
leave, Nhired and ratified in and about tho
empty porch, and over I'LL shot one red and
angry arrow from the sinking sun. Sh
stood in tho wind and rain, and gazed at tho
old church that had seen the end of so many
sorrows more bitter than her own and the
wreck of SO many summers, till the darkness
began to close round her like pail, while
the wind sung the requiem Of her hopes. She
was not Of responding or pessimistic char
acter, but in that bitter hour she found it in
her heart to wish, as most people have done
at one time or other in their lives, that the
tragedy were over and the curtain had fallen,
and that she lay beneath those dripping sods
without sight or hearing, without hope or
dread 1t seemed to her that the hereafter
must indeed be terrible If it outweighs the
sorrows of the here.
And then, poor woman, she thought Of the
long years between her and rest, and, leaning
her head against the gate post, began to cry
bitterly III the gloom.
Presently she stopped crying with start
and looked up, for she felt that sho was no
longer alone Her instincts had not deceived
her, for there, not moro than two PAGES
from her, in the shadow of tho fir trees, was