The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1890-01-31
oLD.TIME TEMPERANCE Reform

Maggie, we are beautifully situated.
Our house is old-fashioned, and 1 know
you Will like that. And there is a cemetery
with over a thousand graves just across
the road"
| read the above queer postscript sever
al times, with varying emotions. knew
it was written in simplicity as a real in.
ducement to the visit | had SO often been
urged to make. Yet / objected to the
opinion evidently held that my love for
graveyards would make me eager to tarry
next door to one. I objected SO much,
that my intended trip to Maggie's came
near being, at least, postponed. Yes, l
seriously thought Of writing to say / would
have come, had she but bought a house in
a more cheerful neighborhood. But l
didn't! For my trunk was partly packed
before the letter came.
The house was really beautifully situa-
ted in the village Of Brookton, and, strange
as it may seem, the cemetery added to its
advantages. 1t was an old square cemete-
ry which no longer was used for inter-
ments except that once in a long time some
former inhabitant, dying away from the
scenes of his youth, was brought back to
lie among his fathers. The later citizens
of Brookton buried two miles away in a
larger, grander spot.
The old cemetery was full of shade from
the beautiful, great trees within it, and on
| tha briobt enrin1 marpinp q fear mi arrival
in B%rookton, there was such a chorus of
song from the branches as would delight
any true lover of music. Looking out, |
determined that my first walk should be
in the cemetery.
81 knew you would want to 20 to the
graveyard, the first thing" said Maggie,
tying on her Stat ~sun-bonnet. How natur-
al It looked, She had worn that sun-bonnet
could remember, and the gingham parasol
which she next proceeded to raise, had ac-
companied the sun-bonnet whenever ging-
ham parasols were proper.
To get into the cemetery we had to go up
a flight of steps outside the fence, and
down a flight inside. This brought us in
to a grass-grown road through which the
mournful funeral trains used to pass. Now,
only foot passengers travelled this way.
Butthoughdisused the burial place was well
kept, as village cemeteries go. The thick
grass was not oyerlong, and the creeping
Charlie and myrtle on the old mounds was
not over-riotous. Here and there in dis
carded crockery from many pantries, were
bouquets. They were fresh enough to
make the passer-by sure the dead were not
forgotten.
From childhood have never neglected
to look at old headstones wherever they
were accessible, and many a quaint tale
have heard of the long dead. Perhaps
none quainter than the tale told that morn
ing by Maggie.
She told it while we sat on q rough seat
near two strange brown stones erected in
memory of Nathan Bruce and Jemima, his
wife. The stones were precisely alike.
They bore urns, against which leaned, pre-
sumably, l~achrymose mourners, whose
countenances were draped with roomy
handkerchiefs held to place by long and
genteel hands.
The stories told by the inscriptions were
fuller than modern tombstones give, and
informed the reader that Nathan was born
before and died after Jemima, though lie
survived her but one day. do not re-
member the date of her death, but Jemima
was born in 1898.
Here is the story of the pair, told to me
by Maggie. Maggie-straight, tall. black
haired, keen-eyed, swift ofspeech, and six
ty.ive years old:
Nathan was the founder of the best and
richest family in Brookton, and, like most
founders of good families, he had worked
hard and made a fortune by hard work
and honest methods. Honest, He was SO
honest that it was not uncommon to hear
folks say, "As honest as Nathan Bruce"
By the time Nathan was a nan of forty be
had come to be a power in his community.
Not another man for miles around sent so
many thousand feet of lumber down the
river when the water was high, as did be.
Not another had so many good dollars
slowed away,
All his neighbors and acquaintances ev-
| erywhere were proud to know him. He
was generous, big, aod good looking. But
alas. like many another old-timer, he low
ed at uncertain intervals to indulge in the
liquor of his g And when Nathan
Bruce was on one of his periodical jollifi-
cations he was a changed Nathan. He
swore, he tore, he broke his wife's dishes,
he spent his hard-earned savings with a
lavish hand. Then for a long time he
would again go clothed and in his right
mind.
This fault of Nathan's by 10 means affect
ed his standing in the community. 1t
was not an uncommon fault, and then he
was rich. Even in those primitive times,
money atoned for many shortcomings.
Jemima was Nathan's second wife, and
she was courted in strange fashion. One
year to a day from the time of his first
wife's death, Nathan called on his broth
er Hosea.