Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1900-12-06
John Norris HeadStone
By Mrs. Charles C. Marble.

II Il n
thanisl Craft felt he owed something
Of outward respect to lifelong friend,
such as John Morris had been, 80 he
donned his best black coat and went to
the funeral.
Ifnumbers 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 impressively spoken, every heart
there thrilled, every heart overfowed
EXCEPT one. In Nathaniel Crafts eyes
no suspicion of moisture could be dis
cerned; no one would have been more
surprised than himself if there had
been. doubt il he could recall TO mind
the time when throb of either tender
ness or sorrow had brought tear to
his little, bead-hke 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 1t;
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 HUI
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 well as the
indifferently well-to-do, always toad
les?
Graft by name, and mean by ma
ture," that was what all men said OF
him, all men, as well az 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 g "trife,p she called
it-as though money In any shape could
be a trifle, much less the whole Of
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 come"
So they wanted him dead! He had
no fatherly feelings to shock-as he
thought-but somehow the red blood
mounted to his sbriveled old face, and
he had gone about his business that
idav with q half-heartedness which
surprised and vexed him. When alone
lin his Office at dusk, his mood changed,
however, and in the place Of that sore.
ness about the heart came a glow OF
LANCER which he intensified by mentally
enumerating the considerable sums
(which those ungrateful children had
cost him.
81 shall disappoint them" he NUT
tered as he unlocked the ponderous
safe in his Office, II shall disappoint
them"
With bent brows and a bitter smile
upon his lips, he broke the seal OF q
certain document and proceeded to
tread it.
"Not now" he said refectively, al
the gray twilight deepened into night
"but Tomorrow; III alter 1t to-mor'
row." replacing the document ana
locking the safe as he spoke.
The next day, as we have seen, he
stood beside the grave Of his friend
John Morris.
Something akin to a sneer curled
his lip at the signs of grief about him
"Most of these people" he thought
doubtless look for bequest under
the will. They weep out of respect
for the dollars,"-he broke of here to
calculate the probable worth of the
dead mans estate. Not large one
certainly; how could it be? For had
not John Morris more than once mild
ly told him that his greatest ambl'
ton had been to lay up treasures II
Heaven? That to him the accumula
ton of million or more dollars meant
the loss of competence or hope, nay
possibly, the lives of hundreds OF hu
man beings; that bottle Of cham
payne represented tear wrung from
as many wretched, starving creatures
as it cost dollars; that from the can
vas, made worth the ransom of king
by the painters art, peeped forth wan
faced little ones, wolf-like, famishec
faces of men and women; that from
: rare, useless bits of the potter's skill
. dripped drops of blood wrung from toll
worn hands, from the anauishaf