The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1898-11-12
XVIII

The dew-drops were beading the long
waving grass, and glittering tremb1tngly
on the rustling ivy leaves, which shook off
the translucent gems, in passing breath
of the sweet summer morning breeze,
down upon the fresh, rose-tinted faces of
the little daisies beneath, scarce Enclosed
as yet to the warm smile OF the sunlight.
The blossoms of the dewy white roses
stirred softly, too, aud the perfumed liquid
of their snowy chalices dropped on the
thirsty leaves Of the purple-flowered wild
%geranium, that clustered in shrub-like
scented masses of downy leaves and lilac.
starred petals
But the birds were silent in the shadow
of the elm-trees: chirp and song and tiut-
tering gladness alike were hushed. The
feathered occupants waited, watching In
fear and surprise, to see the final issue of
the strange invasion of that sunny, peace
full corner by the elm trees, where the
white roses and purple geraniums had
bloomed in wild luxuriance for SO many
years, where the dark clustering ivy
twlned and crept over the NOISY wall,
and the pink-tipped daisies starred the sod
the sunny, peaceful corner in the old
English cemetery of the town of Winston,
State of Massachusetts, United States OF
America.
Unwonted and strange the invasion ap-
peared; for the peace and quiet of that lit.
tie, old, out-of-the-way cemetery and its
weed-grown, homegrown graves was
seldom disturbed by the a%rrivalof another
occupant for one OF the many narrow
homes in that silent land. More seldom
still was one brought to the sunny corner
beneath the elm trees-the strangers cor
ner-where the bones OF a score Of ship
wrecked emigrants from English homer
Tar over the sea had been lying more than
forty years.
Yet was n coming now; for the new
home-oh, so narrow, 80 dark, so cherries
was prepared, and the pink-tinged daisies
and tender dewy grasses, cut and shorn
away, dropped and died, heralding the ar
rival OF the new tenant to his home. Pres
emily a group Of. dark-clothed men had
gathered, and one, robed in white, with
open book, solemnly gave possession to
the new occupant of his six feet of earth
IN the God's-acre OF the sunny old ceme-
terry. Then the small group Of mon laid
the stranger down in that strange home
In a foreign land, with q few signs and
grave sad looks, bnt no tears, no sobs, no
pallid bereaved faces; there were only q
rev grave, sober men-no women, save
one. and she was weeping. The hour was
early, the cemetery was distant from the
town; no women were there, save this one,
who vas young and pale and fair, and
wore fresh mourning tokens, and quietly
wept behind her thick black veil.
She had a cluster of beautiful dewy
white roses, buds. and half-blown bios
SONS in her hand; and. as the men pre-.
pared to lower the oak coffin, with ita
FURNISHED plate flashing in the rays Of the
morning sur, down, down from the flow
ers and sunshine, the stirring blossoms,
the glittering dew-drops, the breath of the
sweet summer mornings life, into the
dank, deep, silent place appointed, she
pushed gently forward.
III you please. sir, will you let me-if,
you please, siri" she begged timidly Of
the quiet. gentlemanly young man before
her.
"Certainly-I beg your pardon he said,
stepping back with alacrity, and CHANGING
with quiet interest Mt the slender, girlish
figure in the dark dress and with the
cluster OF white fragrant lowers.
The oak coffin was at her feet as she
moved into the vacated place, and, kneel-
ing beside It, sho laid the dewy branches
Of roses round the name-plate. She kept
one half-blown flower, and it was
vet with the fast-falling tears that were
dropping on the coffin ere she could hide
y beneath her veil