The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1893-10-24

| Inc last words nave dircduy yiCiuco,
as all must yield in time; but what
need of more? Lying here, little
apart from those others, the pious in
fiuence of her lips and the tender.
ness of his feelings still live, healing,
restful and strong.
| Did they suffer little, this tender
| pair, among their neighbors? Did they
sometimes speak of it together, lament
ing gently that Martha had biting
tongue or Elisha hard heart. and then
epent their lamenting? You move
away softly, leaving them together in
their peaceful end.
A little higher up the hill lies "Abra-
ham Dean," a baby almost two hum
ored years old! His noundless grave is
the softest resting place, and You sit
there, leaning your back. wearied with
bending, against his little carved foot
stone. Poor baby! did you find New
England two hundred years ago too
harsh a spot for you? Was the soft
earth kinder2
| Catherine Grace, wife Of the ReV'd Ebenezer
Grace and relict Of Nathaniel Ware
You move to your feet to read the
rest of this inscription. and find a
strange story in store. Oh, cold. I'M
jealous grave! Catherine lies rigidly
between the man to whom she was wife
and the man of whom she was relict
The three stones stand there upright,
tremendously. unfeelingly together.
Three stones!-there are four. All,
Nathaniel Ware, you do not lie there
unavenged. Catherine. your relict, lies
at Ebenezer Grace's left side, as at your
right, truly: but whose name is that at
Ebenezer's right hand?
| Julia, beloved wife Of the
Rev'd Ebenezer Grace
| Last of the four to die. Were the
valley of dry bones to live, what then?
Ont there in the town they will tell
you the story of the minister's second
wooing. Others of his calling, passing
through Boston Town, spoke much of
Mistress Julia, finding her amiable.
. sprightly, yet pious and delectable to
the sight. Ebenezer Grace made a
trip to Boston Town and sought her
| father, Mistress Julia yet unseen.
What an inf]ammablc generation it
was! We of to-day call them staid, Sc
rious and cold, but who now lives on a
description and wooes by faith in it?
Perhaps it struck much-courted Mis-
tress Julia's father as lmpetuous, or
this quiet minister's pretentions may
have amused him somewhat. He had
no encouragement to offer To his per-
sonal knowledge Julia had made three
vows. She would never wed a man of
the country, widower or a clergyman.
II am all three" quoth Ebenezer
Grace, land so l will enter, with your
permission. Thus it came about that
Mistress Julia lies, with a certain de-
mure complacence to one who knows
her story, at Ebenezer Graces right
hand in the little village churchyard.
Wandering in and out among these
ancient stones, you find few inscrip.
tions which, escaping the Puritan stern
ness, narrow as the grave, rise above it
to a certain grandeur of thought.
Here, for instance. is one which
reads as q rude litany and rings
with the triumph of certain faith:
Long I've believed
Gods power to fave
Cheerful when called
Go to the grave.
My flesh In duff IA;
Shall be his caro- d-syss.
And he will raise
Me ftrong and fair.
In the gentle, musical phrases of Lois
Levin's epitaph there is but the voice
of natural regret for a young life
laid down in its sprngtime. She had
known but eighteen years one hun
dred springs ago when this was writ
ten.
Stay thoughtful mournNr hither led
To weep aud mingle with the dead
Pity the maid who slumbers here
And pay the tributary tear.
Thyfeet must wander far to find
A fairer form, . lovelier mind
An eye that beams a sweeter smile
A bosom more estranged from guile
A heart with, kinder passions warmed
A life with fewer stains deformed
A death with deeper signs confessed,
Amemory more beloved and blessed
But there is one inscription which
stands widely apart from all the rest
in spirit, or rather scars high above
them, thoughtful among the narrow,
spiritual among the sordid, calm mind
ed and just He who lies beneath held
fair and we'll earned post of honor
among his fellows, as his tablet tells:
This modest stone what few vain marbles can
May truly say here lies An honest man
Calmly he looked on either life and hero
Saw nothing to regret or there to fear.
From Natures temp'rate feait rose satisfyd
Thanked Heaven that he had lived and that be
died
Fanaticism has striven to darken your
day and dull this sunshine. this joy and
pride of life in your veins You have
smiled as the dead warned gruesomely
of doom and worms and tombs, and
then one word of honest, wholesome
thought strikes like an arrow in the
gold of your mind. Has the lightest
mind its gold hid away somewhere,
awaiting the well-feathered shaft?
Natures temp'rate feast'-you feel
the tempered splendor Of the sun. In
the softness of the many-blended hues
Of green. in the girdling circle Of undu
lating hills held in strong-drawn line
on the horizons edge, is.the calm power
of the unbroken laws of life and ma
turc.
Turning thoughtfully aside, you see
again the diaphanous, graceful leaves
trapipg yet not concealing the strong
boughs of the elm-trees clustering
above the graveyard gate.-Margaret
A. Brescoe, in Outlook.