The Worthington advance., 1900-11-30
John Morris Headstone
BY Mrs. Charles G. Marble.
IT was disagreeable duty, but Ma
thaniel Craft felt he owed something

IT was disagreeable duty, but Ma
thaniel Craft felt he owed something
of outward respect to lifelong friend,
such as John Morris had been, so he
donned his best black coat and went to
the funeral.
If numbers and the undisguised grief
of men and women stood for anything,
then must John Morris have been be-
loved. AS the first spadeful of earth
ratified upon the coffin, and the solemn
words, "dust to dust, ashes to ashes"
were inpressively spoken, every heart
there thrilled, every heart overflowed
except one. In Nathaniel Crafts eyes
no suspicion of moisture could be dis
cerned; no one would haze been more
surprised than himself if there had
been. I doubt if he could recall to mind
the time when throb of either tender
ness or sorrow had brought tear to
his little, bead-like eyes. Surely he
had shed none when those same words
were spoken above his wife's grave.
Why should he? Had he not felt sense
of relief that her burial was the last ex-
pense to which she could put him? Her
little patrimony had attracted him, not
herself. He did love that nucleus upon
which he had built respectable for
tune. Thoughts of stocks, bonds and
investments only ever made his heart
glow. To lose them would wrench it;
that would be grief indeed. Possibly in
that case tears of anger and disappoint-
ment might fill his eyes, but not one
tear of sorrow at the loss of any hu-
man being, not one. His wife had
been extravagant-poor soul-and her
son and daughter, he was pleased to
say, followed in her footsteps! Peo-
pie who knew Nathaniel Craft smiled
, inwardly when he made that assertion,
inwardly, of course, for was not Ma
thaniel Craft rich, and are not the in
differently well-born, as we'll as the
indifferently well-to-do, always toad
les?
,. "Craft by name, and mean by ma
ture," that was what all men said of
him, all men, as well as the two who
were bone of his bone and flesh of his
flesh. Only yesterday had he overheard
his daughter May, in tempest of grief
at his refusal of ''trife." she called
it-as though money in any shape could
be trifle, much less the whole of q
five-dollar bill-had heard her call him
an "old curmudgeon too mean to die
to which his precious son had an.
swered, that people who are not want
ed here were generally not wanted in
the world to Gomez
So they wanted him dead! He had
no fatherly feelings to shock-as he
thought-but somehow the red blood
mounted to his shriveled old face, and
he had gone about his business that
day with half-heartedness which
surprised and vexed him. When alone
. In his office at dusk, his mood changed
however, and in the place of that sore
ness about the heart came a elow o,
anger which he intensified by mentall,
enumerating the considerable sum,
which those ungrateful children ha6
cost him. ...@ s.Sf. I 49,.
<9. Il shall 1disappoint them" he NUT
tered as he unlocked the ponderou,
safe in his Office, Il shall disappoin1
them" .g4r nj lib I'D .s,flsE,a ~ &Fg ,r q
With bent brows, and . bitter smil,
upon his lips, lie broke the seal Of j..
certain document and proceeded I,
read it.,l5n NJ .a. II JAZZ
: '"'Not now" he said, rehectively, d.
the gray twilight deepened into night
Z ':but tomorrow; I'll alter It to-nor
row, replacing the document ant
. locking the safe as he spoke. 5%$
The next day, as we have seen, h,
stood beside the grave Of his frient
John Morris. ii b 4 ..,s5
Some thing akin to sneer $cur1et
his lip at the signs Of grief about him
Most of these people, !" he thought
doubtless look for q beauest6 unde1
the will. They weep out Of respec,