Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1899-10-02
~rbs ltsIs One Is All KIghs.v
(A3 ary 4. Benson

other two" were words We heard on nearing little cabinA9oat on the edge of the sand bar thaA the low water had left in front of tbeNxIHage' Rowing ouI heads, from necessitye@~as well as reverence, we entered the nar= row, lOw-framed door, near which was small, rude coffin, resting on two broken chairs. A dark. stern-yisage6 woman who was frying bacon on a little stove in the center of the room, looked up scoWlingly at our entrance, but said nothing. An old man, whose long gray hair and beard framed face more defiant than sorrowfHl arose from the bed in the corner, kicked an old, black jug to one side. and con- fronted us.
 What do you want here, anyhow" said he. "The little unll get along all right When the two others died. We didn't have no church fol4s around, nor preacher, nor funeral business. We just dug hole an put 'em in it, an they didn't have no $60 coffins, neither. We'll do the same with this un, an we don't want none O you rich folks around Us. You wouldn't care if we was starvin'; you call us river rats; you make fun of us if we go near your fine churches, an we don't want noth- in of you, nohow." The old man stopped, and running both hands through his shaggy hair. seemed to listen to the doleful plashing of the water on the keel of his floating house. Very gently we assured him taat oar sympati was with all the sorrowing; that our little village was famed for it's kindness to strangers, its care for the sick and the suffering, it's substan- tia help to all who were in need
 Don't b'lieve nothin' of the sort, retorted he, walking backward and forward with a heavy tread that rock ed the boat to and fro. We was tied up at Portage for six weeks, with the children sick with the measles. and not woman came a-nigh us the whole endurin' time. Folks is all alike, most 1 ly. an we'd rather they'd stay away from us. The little un is all right, without any of you; an as for me, ! don't b'lieve in nothin', nohow. I've lived upards of thirty year on this old Mississippi river, have been over 700 miles of it, up an down, an never bothered nobody. I s'pose if you're boun' an determined to haul the little un away, an put it in tbe ground funeral-like, you can do it, though 'twould be just as well, 'cordin' to my thinking, if we was to roll it Up an drop it into the river. Your singin an prayin' can't hurt 1t, nohow, nc more'n they can do it any good; cause you see, don't you, the little un's all right"
 The cloudless sunshine of the Easter morning crept oyer the bluffs, touch ing the river waves with crystal, anC making of the brown sand bar a plaiI , of furnished gold. Afar off, from catbedl al tower, Easter chimes wert ioyously vibrating on the sweet sprinl air. Birds were singing merrily iron the budding branches on the rive
 hanks and all the visible world seem
 ed joining in the Easter chorus of tn
 Resurrection and the Life. Two o
 three wagons were on the sand ba
 near the cabin-boat, and with gentl
 hands the tiny coffin was covered wit
 flowers and carried from it's " -.eI
 tossed home to our silent villaq Q
 Lut dozen ar more sf vrc folks stood by the parents, az I'm
 was sung. a prayer was off m
 the wee grave was covered tn quaint funeral process { aronnd the hills and int - A iagain while in the soft 2 ~ ~