The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1898-03-19
LIVES IN HIS WIFE's TOMB.
1t Is Furnished Like n Room, with
Pictures and Draperfes.

1t Is Furnished Like n Room, With
Pictures and Draperfes.
Eyes, this will be the third winter I
have spent by my dead wife's side"
said John Reed, whose beautiful tomb
in Evergreen cemetery, Brooklyn, n.
Y, has made him conspicuous the
world over. II don't feel like a widow
er, but l should had l laid her away in
a lonesome, easy-to-be-forgotten hole
In the ground. But when l so into that
sacred room and take the lid from her
casket and look into her beloved face
l experience the sweetest companion
ship, and am comforted in my terrible
loneliness.
II had no idea of creating a Sensa-
ton when I built this sarcophagus and
hung 1t with pictures and adorned 1t
with the treasures Of our home. My
only wish was to have her where 1
could see her every day, and to know
that at last to lie beside her, for 1t
would kill me this minute If 1 thought
she would sleep in n place and 1 in
another.
This is the reason that 1 her
away from her fathers vault, for while
her relatives promised that my coffin
shall be close beside hers, yet they re-
fused to give me a written guarantee
that this should be done. The more l
thought of It, the more I feared that
after l was dead they may feel that
there is not room enough in the family
vault for my body. I was afraid they
may not realize how much 1t means to
me to be laid to rest beside my darling
wife, and that eventually l might be
crowded out.
$50 I bought this lot and built this
tomb. It seemed SO desolate to put my
loving wife into q bare stone room. that
1 fitted it up just as homelike as I could
with her ~favorite books and pictures,
with her fancy work and things she
loved in life. For three years I have
been here every day. from dawn to
sunset. I go in and talk with her and
imagine we are keeping house just as
we did in the Old happy days.
81 used to tell her that if she should
die I would build her a tomb.
"And so I have carried out her wishes,
and may God grant that the day may
come soon when the key shall be turned
on our last earthly home. and in q
tomb Just large enough for two we
will sleep together until the morning
of resurrection"
Thousands of people from every
country in the world have stopped in
front of whispering Grove" to look at
the old man, who is spending his days
with his dead wife. So great is the
fame of the wonderful tomb and the
devotion of Mr.. Reed that on Sundays
officers are stationed to keep the
crowds moving. The cemetery author
tiles have forbidden him to allow the
public to see the interior of the tomb,
but its imposing exterior and romantic
history command the attention of all
visitors.
1t is built Of granite, with stone cop.
ings and iron guards. On the arched
ridge is a polished granite ball, and
over the door is the simple inscription:
Jonathan and Mary z. Reed"
In the summer the huge vases blaze
with color, while inside the tomb is as
silent and cool as a sanctuary. 1t is an
ideal place to spend the long. hot days,
for in front Of the sarcophagus is a
beautiful lake, surrounded with will
lows, whose long, graceful branches dip
into the water.
But in winter, when the wind races
and the snow lies in great drifts, when
the tomb is cold and damp as only q
grave can be, 1t takes more than
the passing love of a mans heart to
tempt him to spend all the hours be-
tween daylight and dark in a forsalsen
tomb, wen though the body of one he
has tenderly loved is lying there. The
only sound is the clock ticking above
her coffin and the murmur of his voice
as the lonely man talks and prays.
The interior of the vault is unlike any
other in the world. for it is hung with
rich draperies, and the walls are Gov.
cred with souvenirs of foreign travels.
But the interest eenters in two cata-
falques of deliberately sculptured stone.
Each contains a metallic c~asl1et, and in
one is the embalmed body of the cher.
ished wife.
The embalminR fluid was almost like
the blood OF life, for the face Of the dead
Is like q sleeper. She must have been
very beautiful, and the lines on her
face are so sweet that in looking ut the
husband and wife n no longer won
ders that in 80 years Of welded life
there was never "A cross word. Between
the two collins there is a black-cush
Toned iron chair, In which Mr.. Reed sit.
while communing with his wife.
Mr.. Reed is a man OF remarkable dig.
nifty of manner and speech. His hair
n beard are snow white, but his
face Is ruddy and the deep, blue eyes
are full Of peace. His life is full Of
sweet contentment, and while long.
ing for the perfect reunion, he
holds tenaciously TO the belief that
there is no death, but hat the life here
and hereafter is an endless chain, OF
which there Is never q link broken or
lost.-N. Y. Cor. Philadelphia Times.
Money TO Loan.
Stop paying rents. Be your own land
lord. Those who have vacant lots and
wish to build, or borrow on town prop