Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1894-11-29
A TENNESSEE MOUNTAIN "BJTRY-
IN"

A TENNESSEE MOUNTAIN BURY
IN"
How pete Birds Baby Gal. Was
Laid 20 Rest One Soft and Hazy Day.
One day during the week one of the
children came home fro.n school at
noon full of news. writes Matte Yves
ter in the Nashville (Tenn.D Banner
The teacher had clicked two of the
boys. "bad uns." SO said gleeful Will
lam. One of the girls had ''sassed Their
| teacher" been reprimanded. and left
for home in disgust. Sal Brown and
| Bill Newsome, who married ''tother"
day. were both back attending school.
| both of them under the ''Schooi age"
iyet. she being IA summers and he 10
winters And furthermore. 'Pete
Birds baby gal died in Their night. an
hit wuz ter be buried that afternoon
about 3 or O'clock" thus deposed
! William.
Would you wimmen like ter go ter
Their buryin'?" asked Mrs. S. We looked
at each other rather obviously. as we
are not hunting ''buryins' these days
thought would prefer to stay on the
old porch, swinging in my hammock,
and 1 could see the dear mater was
not "hOnin' to go. But Mrs S. con-
tinued before we had voiced our deci-
sion:-
yer see. thort hit would be err pun
nice drive. They have ter drive right
by we're, fur they're goin' ter bury hit
in ole Square DobSon's graveyard
Hits er nice long ride an Their day is
mighty pleasant, an 1 reckon yer'd
enjoy hit if yer keer ter 60. But of
course you uns kin suit yerSelves err
bout that
The idea of ''eDioying'' ourselves at
a funeral had never occurred to US be-
fore But the ride did offer tempta-
tons. I could see the mater weaken
ing visibly, so 1 said:
''W0n't We have to go to the church
to the funeral?''
"Bless yore heart. no, child! Their
won't be no funeral Hits jist er
buryin',' my landlady informed me
with a plying smile for my ignorance.
"Why, don't they have any preaching
or prayers over the corpse?' asked l.
"Wall. Their may be some time durin
! Their year, or hit may be two or three
year before they have ther funeral
preached. Yer see preachers don't hap
per Ground this er way very often"
My! but that seemed heathenish tC
me, and 1 was becoming interested, sc
nj 1ol 70
heaved a sigh of regret as [ slowly be
gan to lift myself from the hammock
| but Mrs. S. said:
: clay still, an be comfable fer yer'l
have plenty of time ter dress arter we
| see them ercomin' down Their road
An, too, yer needn't be particular
what yer wear, fur we won't git outen
the jersey, lessen yer wanter.''
; ''Is it little baby to be buried?" !
asked.
eyes. hits bOrned since you'uns kim
up we're. Twan't er likely young I'm
but twas plum pritty.'
''Then it isn't the pretty little four
, year-old who was here one day?''
ooh! no; hits ther lesser one. theT
) very leastest one. You'uns hain't
| never seed hit. 1 lowed ter take ye1
over Their, but pears like they've been
. so sorter puny an ailin, 'twouldn't be
} err fifth place ter take youuns to-
. Now, jist rest easy, an I'll tell yer when
ter get ready"
SO l rested. My eyes were closed,
but my brain was busy wondering
what nlarvels of heavenly beauty and
ChriSt-like fairness those baby eyes
were now gazing upon. I wondered if
the little soul did not thrill with joy at
it's escape from it's brief captivity in an
earthly prison house. How I 1Onged
to know! Was the innocent little life
glad to be there, or would she be lonely
without the mother love to watch over
and tenderly guard her?
"Come, now. I see her folks Ell
comm over Their hill. Yer'll have
plenty of time ter dress now, while
my ole man is er gearin' in
: Hastily dressing and peering be
tween my curtains at the window l
soon saw a Jersey" with one seat in
front, and in the body of the wagon
lay plain, rough box, holding the lit
tie coffin, evidently ''townmade" Fol
lowing came a small conveyance con-
tanning the father of the dead babe
land three children. After that several
vehicles of different styles followed.
The occupants of them were chatting
and laughing. Well, why shouldn't
they? Death is solemn, but life is
more so, and after all death is good
thing for the one who dies. God
speed the dying, but God pity the liv-
ing. Still, as rule, one is not in
spired to eayety or laughter in the
presence of death, and it Jared upon
me and marred the quiet harmony Of
the beautiful day, cool yet softly hazy
as a day in Indian summer.
We logged along we'll in the rear Of
the procession. 1t was an odd way of
attending a funeral, to us; as each
house was passed the waiting people
would drive or ride out and fall into
line, until there were or 10 outfits in
the procession. The road led us
through a beautiful stretch of woods,
where black oak, Spanish oak, sour
trees and hickory hobnobbed in
friendly fashion, at times INTERVENING
their boughs overhead where dainty,
bright-plumaged birds fitted, twitter-
ing softly or boldly warbling their
cheerieSt notes. Beneath in the deep