Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1892-10-22

no HOlQ huu kuc
Theirs Is the fierce dew OF labor,
The heat and tho burden.
Yet while the great sky gives blessing.
The widc summer weather,
No odds Of fate nre they asking
They are togetherl
-Harrlet P. sporord In Harper's Bazaar.
HIS:: SITS ASHES.
When fhs jttta;G Dufalde, captain in
1.-THE GHs Hind land Twelfth cniras-
81; the line died, he was sorely
stricken with sorrow, and would not be
conlf6rted In fact, he had hardly had
time to enjoy his happiness or. appre-
ciate his treasure, for they had been
married. only month. when she was
taken from him in tho midst Of their
wedding tour in Italy.
Just about returning to Paris. she fell
i'll in Rome and died Of fever, in spite
Of the many physicians called to attend
hor and the devoted careof her husband,
who never left her side Till she breathed
her last,
Conscious to the end, she bravely
sought to console him.
at was not given to mortals," she
said. Ito DO happy for long. Our joy
has boon too great; it could not last,
Do not weep, dearest she cried; "let
me pass away In peace, without tho
memory OF your distressed face. Smile;
do not look so sad!" and she raised her
trembling hand and csressingly laid 1t
on his check.
"You are soldier" p~rsued she;
death should have no terrors for you.
have loved you only; do me, then, one
last little favor wish to be near you
always, even in death. | beseech you,
crelnate nae, then; reduce mo to little
heap of ashes that you can carry always
with you. ! shall never disturb you.
How strange it seems to call heap Of
ashes .I'-yet SO it will DO. You will
sometimes glanco ut mo thus, and can
never entirely forget 1ne!''
Nevertheless when Durande returned
to Paris he was changed man. 10 was
thin and haggard; his eyes had lost their
laster, his step Its elastic spring and
confidence.
Courage. courage, my boyi" his colo
mel would say to him.
.aBc brave, my friendi" repeated his
brother officers.
But Joy and brightness had gone out
of Durande's life. The once brilliant
soldier was broken man.
No one on arrival was allowed to
touch his luggage. and he,hiInself, with
care and weeping, drew from his satchel
an artistic little vase that he soleInnly
charged his brosseur never on any nc
count to lay hands upon.
"a token of poor lnadamcY' the man
ventured TO ask.
"Yes, TOKEN" Durande responded;
before which, the slim Roman urn that
held all that was left of his poor wife'sre-
mains, he knelt and wept bitterly when
alone again. At night 1t stood in full
view upon cabinet beside his bod, that
his eyes might rest upon it when not
closed in sleep and by day. When his
leave had expired and he. had returned
to duty, he was distract. astranger to hia
comrades, joining in none OF their pleas
nres OF amuscments, seeming to live only
in the memory of his lost wife and that
urn-which might be knocked over.
He had placed her portrait in every
room in his house, and by strange para
do1 of sentiment it was here, among all
these tender recollections, that he passed
his least miserable hours.
By degrees, through steady contem-
plation. perhaps, the sight of the Roman
urn produced less painful effect upon
the disconsolate widower, and no longer
caused him the cruel heart pangs Of the
first days of bereavement.
He was now able to picture his dar-
ling as she had been In the zenith Of
strength and beauty gay, smiling charm
ing. Again and again he recalled and
lived over the mononts of that honey
moon journey, sGd>ggffew- happy himself
in this sweet, posthumous feSlyal OF
radiant hasys.
When Mt work the urn stood on his
writing table, and he thought how in
11fe and In that bygone time he had writ
lpsn and pondered and she had sat Qui-
z = beside Linn reading or sewing tran
gully, silently, without disturbing him.
Six months passed, heightened to q
year. and now and then it happened that
Durande forgot the urn and left 1t on his
table ut night instead Of carrying 1t to
his bedroom. Finally he enshrined it
for good on his Office table. Not that
the memory of his wife was less than at
first, but because in time it was borne
in upon him that funereal deposit like
this was unsanitary. unhealthy In a
sleeping room.
Nevertheless every day 1t was sur
rounded, as usual, with lilies and roses,
his wife's favorite flowers.
The one year heightened. to two, and
Durande had returned to his bachelor
life.
"'Tis wrong to bury yourself alive
thus" said his friends and his wife's re-
lations; "begin, 60 into the world
again"
DuEande yielded, once more went out.
frequented the quarters Of his brother
officers, joined in their -jollifying, and
actually one evening carried them all
home with him to q banquet in his own
apartments. The wine was good, the
champagne sparkling, laughter, songs,
uproar the order of the night; when the
supper ended they all adjourned to the
private Office, where the inortuary
shrine stood alone upon the table, sewers
and mournful.
Revelry ran riot, in the midst Of
which Durande suddenly recalled the
"nresence Of the dead" as he was Wort