Connecticut western news., 1890-01-01
VOL. XIX.

| said that once, when somewhat under the influence of iquor-the only time, so far as any one knew, that he had ever yielded to any extent to the se- ductive influence of the flowing bowl he had cast his rude form of speech from him as garment, and conversed for time in language that would have | done credit to the most cultured gentle l man.
 An hours walk brought us to Col burns camp. which was something | over four miles distant. The injured man was lying on a rude couch near | the doorway of the sleeping camp. It needed but glance at his pallid fea- lures to assure me that he was past all human aid. The bones of his chest had been crushed and shattered by the terrible blow he had received, and he breathed with great difficulty. He recognized us as we entered and feebly stretched forth his hand to welcome us.
 "Shell I pray with you, JoeW asked the parson.
 "Yes, parson," answered Fiddler Joe, "but make it short, 'cause thar ain't much time."
 Parson Griggs knelt beside the dying man and sent up 8 petition for the soul so soon to be launched upon the boundless ocean of eternity. When he arose the men in the room and about the door were standing with uncovered heads, and tears of sympathy were ill all eyes.
 ''How do you feel about the futur' Joe?" asked the parson. "Is all well with yer?"
 "I guess it's all right, friend," re- piled Joe feebly; cit kinder seems to me thet I've done more good than harm in the world, an I reckon the balance'l be on the right side. Elf ain't square now thar ain't no time for me to square myself" He paused for moment to rest and then con- tinued, ssThar's two or three things 1 want to talk about. As I was tellin' the boys, don't want no fuss made, no church funeral, no grave stuns. Jest plant me out here in the woods somewhar-at the foot of some big pine. I hain't no kin as would keer for me, dead or alive-an' allus sleep better in the woods, anyhow" He paused again, faint and weak from his efforts to talk. Big John held small flask of spirits to his lips and he revived. |
 I want ye to say little suthin' at the plantin', parson," he said presently !: s'I don't want no sugar coatin' nor nothin' O thet sort, but you. kin jest say, an say it truthful, too, thet l never went back on no friend-not once. Thet's why Pm here, boys here in the pinewoods- away from my kin-jest because-I stood by-a friend-when he" and his voice sank to an indistinguishable whis- | per.
 "Whar are your relations, Joe?'' asked the parson in husky tones, as he bent over the sufferer-''ain thar nc one ye want us to write to?"
 "No," gasped Joe; "T've been dead to then@tWenty years."
 A spasm of pain crossed his face, his head sank back and death forever sealed the mystery of his life.
 We buried him, as he had requested, deep in the forest at the foot of all enormous pine. Over the open grave Parson Griggs paid homely but touch. ing tribute to the virtues of his dead friend, and then knelt in prayer beside the rude coffin.
 60, Lord," he said, sEwe commend to Thy mercy the sperit that went ou yesterday through the gate of deatf into the unknown land that lays be- yond. Thou knowest that our frienC was not considered as bein' prayip man, but we who know him best fee
 sure that his heart prayed when his lips made no sound. He made no per fession, but we believe that Thol wilst judge him by the testimony O:
 his acts rather than that of his mouth
 Like Him they crucifed he died to say,
 others. Like Him, too, he wen
 through life doin' good. His ear wa
 never deaf to the voice of trouble. HI
 clothed the naked, fed the hungry an visited the sick.
 "No night was so dark, no storm s fierce, no road so rough, as to keel
 him from the side of the sufferin' all needy. He was every mans brother Of all who hev come here to homo him thar is not one whose load he ha not sometime made a little lighter , We bury here the worthless husk tha
 hid the golden grain of goodness. Ma
 we who stay behind larn the lesson [ thet his life an death should teach ! May the seeds of kindness thet he scat l tered all through this forest wildernes , blossom in tempted souls an bear frui , fit for thy kingdom; an to Thy nam
 shall be all the glory. Amen." Three days later, returning from F hunting excursion, the parson and 7 passed Fiddler Joe's grave. As W e neared the spot we saw Big John stand l ing by the tall pine which was Joe's mo1 t ument. He had hewn sort of tabl. V on the side of the tree, and stood T., ! garding it as we came up.
 f "He didn't want us to get him Il
 grave stun, an I thought thar ought 4 be suthin' more'n tree to mark tf i grave of the whitest man that eve h struck these parts," said John as l = hastily passed his sleeve across his eye b ss'Tain't no very han'some job," I continued apologetically, "but 'tws 4 the best I knowed how to do." s Upon the tablet rudely carved wit Y, pocket-knife was the following il d scription:
 e FIDLAR JO CURTISS, IF . Died Nov. 25, A.D., 1885, aige 45.