Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1899-08-04
"rh. Lltsis one Is All RisAt.~
(Mary A. Benson.

I on nearing a little eabin-boat on the edge of the sand bar that the low water had left in front of the village. Rowing our heads, from necessity as well as reverence, we entered the mar TOW, loW-framed door, near which was a small, rude coffin, resting on two broken chairs. A dark, stern-visaged woman who was frying bacon on l little stove in the center of the room looked up seoWlingly at our entrance, but said nothing. An old man, whose long gray hair and beard framed face more defiant than sorrowfrl, 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 un'll get along all right When the two others died, we didn't have no church folls around, nor preacher, nor funeral business. We just dug hole an put em in it, an they didn't have no $60 collins, 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 starYin'; 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 Hael of hts floating house. Very gently We assured him taat a@F sympatl was with all tie Borrowirg; that our little village was famed for it's kindness to strangers, its care for the sick and the suffering, it's substan- i tial help to all who were in need
 Don't b,lieye 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 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 blieye in nOthin', nohow. I've lived lip ards of thirty year on this old Mississippi river, have been over 700 miles of it, up an down, an never bothered nobody. I spose if you're boun' an determined to haul the little un away, an put it in the ground, funeral-like, you can do it, though twould be just as well, 'eordin to my thinking, if we was to roll it up an drop it into the river. Your singfn' an prayin can't hurt it, nohow, no more'n they can do it any good; cause you see, don't you, the little un's all right"
 The cIoudIess sunshine of the Easter morning crept over the bluffs, touch ing the river waves with crystal, and making of the brown sand bar a plain of furnished gold. Afar off, from cathedl dl tower, Easter chimes were joyously vibrating on the sweet spring air. Birds were singing merrily from the budding branches on the river banks, and all the visible world seem ed joining in the Easter chorus of the Resurrection and the Life Two or three wagons were on the sand bar near the cabin-boat, and with gentle hands the tiny coffin was covered with flowers and carried from it's water tossed home 10 our silent village" on the hill. A dozen or more church folks" stood by the parents, as hymn was sung. a prayer was offered and the wee grave was covered, then the quaint funeral procession wouno around the hills and into the valley again, htle in the soft air of the calm Easter morning the defiant fathers words echoed more pleasantly than before "The little un is all right"
 rs.....-t. -... Aa,. ssnnn.nn