The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-09-11

abruptly where tum sled duwn log
cabin with barn of free and easy
curves, charming to an artists eye, &C
companied a little old haystack recently
acquired by syndicate OF three or four
hens who scattered it lavishly around
their narrow conflues. A purling noun
tain stream cooled moment under the
a rch OF ample span beneath the pike,
just beyond the Black Horse tavern
where the roads fork right and left then
sweeping in graceful curve past the
chapel of st. Johns, 1t repined with
gentle murmer through some black and
messy stones, and was lost to view in
deep ravine, where many pools and falls
led to the river sleeping beyond.
st. Johns was built more than o CEN
fury ago. Stones from the near. by
mountains were worked into the walls,
a monument to the religious pride Of
the places of ea:ly settlers. 1t stood
within grove of ancient trees, knarled
oaks, dusky pines, and willows posed in
grace. In the long grass beneath their
boughs, drunken grave stones staggered
among multitude OF daisies which
lifted pleading petals TO the sun.
The building was clad with green
black leaves and dusty tendrils of an
ivy, and only one window could be dis
timely seen, showing dimly in outline
in the stained glass the Saviour bid
ding the daughter of Jai-us to arise.
Hero and there the pointing had
crumbled away, leaving to the graceful
sanctuary impressions of the failure OF
weary age like burrows down an old
mans cheeks. In tire tower hung three
bells harmonizjnR in the natural scale
OF @, and their solemn tones announced
to the wayfarer that another soul would
soon be paced to rest in the quiet OF
tle Old churchyatd. An iron gate in
the stone wall gave entrance TO tho
chlrchyard, ove-giown pebble walks
leaulng among the antiquated graves.
In one part of The yard tho grass was
trampled upon and the earth hoaped in
mound, where new made grave
waited an occupant.
stranger was reading curiously tho
following inscription on an adjacent
headstone:
WIDOW JANE MOrEA
Died Dec. 2let, 1es3
-.......' ......"....F
I'VE call her Widow Moree OF o."
said the gravedigger, with solemn sort
Of laugh.
you didn't know her. did your" he
continued, refiectively sweeping back
the long white hal: which hung about
his eyes and down over his ears.
mol" said the stranger, ~ did not,
but would much like to know what
she had to do with the dead who will
l'e n that new grave"
"Weil, str;" replied the old man,
there is not much to tell about her.
You see, sir, she was sort of mystery
to the people about her, she just dropped
in, no one knows from where. She
brought little girl baby along with her
only few months old, that she always
claimed 20 be her own child. 1t was
such pretty little thing. 30 frail and
delicate, we could not believe creature
Beside it was we'll known throughout
the village that money came to them
regularly for support. The old creature
never did lick Of work for herself; she
would sit most of the day in her cabin
with her little bottle of brandy by her
side. Work? No! no! that was not her
style.
We'll, sir; at last she died, and the
money for the support of both herself
aud child Immediately was withdrawn;
the latter was thrown on the countrv.
Time passed, still no one claimed the
poor little gil, nor could our
crude investigation, obtain an
dnkling OF the little ones origin; so Col.
Colketr down at the tavern took her in.
From that time Daisy won the love
OF everybody. Even in childhood she
was so full OF life, the colonel idolized
her. The rector, finding she had learned
to read, invited her to make use of his
library, also giving her instructions in
music which she acquired as if by in
stinct. If | remember she was just ten
years old when she first sang an anthem
in the choir. 1t was quite an event.
Parties drove miles from neighboring
towns to hear her sing. She read con-
tinually. Novels and love stories she
grasped at with an avidity seemingly
unnatural in one so young. have
watched her very often sitting for hours
less among the quivering leaves,
facinated by some story. About the old
churchyard was the spot she loved, and
in her blighted young life she leaned
upon the grave stone and seemed to find
enchantment under the walls of the
stately old building"
The stanger here turned away with
weary air The old man fastened to
detain him, continuing:
Pardon, sir, for telling you these lit
tie details; there is not much more
about the child that know, but what
remains may possibly interest you. As
she grew oder the colonel employed
her to wait upon the dining table in the
tavern. but unfortunately for Daisy he
entertained some very lively guests
among the young chaps who stopped
with him. noticed that her attendance
at the church gradually lost interest
with her, and more and more frequently
Sundays passed without her coming to
the services, were she had been always