Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1896-08-30

dead man more than about dead foxl
Why not tumble out the real box into
| the nearest ditch or ray5ne? At turn
in the road a horse crossed their path
The rider Cyrille.
"I will come with you," he said, land
discharge the fees" He knew that II
left TO himself, Lucio, were he trusted
with the money, would probaly toss the
coffin into the first ravine which was
deep enough to tell no tales.
mo need to fatigue youdself 50, sir,
said Lucio, greatly Disconnected. III
you be god enough TO wish to pay the
burying you can give me the money
There is no need fer you to flag yourssii
coming TO the town"
Il VIII go with YOU" said Cyrille,
knowing that the money, If it left his
hands, would never reach the grave
yard.
Lucio cursed him silently for sus-
piclous, obstinate, niggardly, fCrelgn
brute. Spies on US even when we are
nought but a carcass" he thought,
where he sat at the coffin head, crack
ing nuts TO beguile the way. Does no
one else pitch their dead into d-tches
What matter was it TO this white-faced
stranger II the old WORKOUT body were
tumbled amongst the weeds and toads
q. the bottom of a gully? And how did
the stranger know that 1t had been in
LuciO's mind to do away with it so, and
10 sell the cart and mules somewhere
far away. and come back on foot, all
tattered and torn, with a well-tOld tale
OF robbery and a bare escape with life ?
Oh him! he sees through the bones
OF ones head what one is thinking,
said the man to himself.
Cyrille, who suspected nothing worse
than a possible misuse CT the church
fees, had no idea OF the schemes which
his presence defeated as he rode on to-
wards the confines Of the woods where
the high road passed which led 10 the
dreary, small walled town, now scarce
mere than q village, although 1t had
besn stronghold Of the Popes in the
tenth and eleventh centuries.
Would It not do just as well left TO
Itself in the woOis?" muttered Lucio,
as he gave the wooden box a sudden
kick.
Yes" replied Cyrille; and I should
like my cwn body, when l die, % be
laid down under a tree. and left there.
| But your law and your religion bid You
bury your dead, and bury them as they
command. You can only obey"
Lucao grumbled inaudibly. For the
law he had contempt and hatred, but For
religion a dull pagan awe-such as IN
old Etruscan and Latin days, under
these same forest glades, rude men had
felt for the terrors Of the gods.
The walled village Of san Vitala to
which they were bound, stood aloft
overlooking the west to Monte Amiata
Clouds hung about It's hillsides, and
the air was heavy and cold. The few
people in it's narrow street were ragged
miserable, lean. The sacristan came
out of an arched door in a clOister: was
he called for baDtisam or burial? The
latter? Very well. He had put in
three dead that morning. There was
room lor a fourth atop of them. Re
would call his Reverence.
Then he unlocked an iron gate. and
showed a dreary enclosed square OF
rough brown grass, in which a few iron
| crosses, and hundreds CT sticks nailed
cTosswise. were standing in many rows.
The figure of a woman was standing
there
II was that Of the dead mans grand
daughter Mureilla.
How did you come here?" said Lu-
clio angrily, at the sight of her, as he
backed the coffin and cart into the bur
;al place
you would not bring me. so I walk
cd across by the hill paths she an
swered.
"Womenkind have no business at
these rites" said LuciO.
She did not reply; but she took one
end OF the wooden box and obliged them
10 lift it not too roughly to the ground.
you did well 70 come" said Cyriile
to her. with sympathy.
She said nothing. She was not there
for the sake of her dead grandsire, but
Ito prevent the scheme Of t'hieving the
mules which she had Guessed had been
MANNED between her uncles.