News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1901-05-22
Iected and well nigh forgotten fol

many year.
So, when Brokenstraw began to plan
a grand Memorial day service, as a
matter of course all the preparations
conferred about the East cemetery. No
mention whatever was made of the
burying ground ON the hill.
'Thar's goin to be great dOin's Me-
mortal day, l hear" said the widow,
Jane Bump, who was calling on Miss
Hetty Pringle one early May after
noon.
Miss Hetty, faded, withered old
maid, stopped pairing apples long
enough to murmur a gentle assent
The widow, who was an acknowledged
authority on all the gossip of the dis
trict, ratified volubly on: They're a-goin
to hev the band over from May Town,
an Elder SCOTS a-cOmin from Dur
keyville, an they tell me that Lawyer
Frank Griswold is to speech make. l
heerd him last year to Sherman, an,
land, low he did boiler! He's got a
voice you kin hear more'n a mile, an
when he called on them soldiers by
name, in Sherman buryin ground,
shouldn't hev ben one mite surprised
to see 'em git right out of their graves.
Gabr'el's trump want nothin to it."
And the widow who was facetiOusly
inclined shook her rotund shoulders
with laughter.
Miss Hetty smiled sympathetically
and went on pairing apples.
Then, after the exercise, singin by
the Presbyterian an Baptist choirs an
prayin by the ministers an yellin by
Lawyer Griswold, then the bandit
play real solemn music, an everybody'll
go round an lay flowers on the soldiers
graves. Oh, it'll be grand! It's high
time Brokenstraw was up an a-doin
somethin like this. 1 tell the folks
we're way behind the times"
81 suppose" said Miss Hetty nerv-
ously, that they'll decorate in both
cemeteries"
Both cemeteriesw cried the Widow
Bump in amaZement. "Why, there
hain't no soldiers buried ON the hillr'
There's William Bond" said Miss
Hetty timidly, and even as she spoke
a faint flush crept to her faded cheek
as the dying rays of the sunset illu-
mine for one instant a frosty, icebound
landscape.
civilian Bondr with a sort of dis,
dain. He! Why, Miss Hetty, you
know he never amounted to a row OF
pins. He was a wuthless, shiftless
critter. l dunno why anybody should
want to decorate him"
And yet he died for his country just
as much as the Others" interposeG
Miss Hetty, with a trembling voice.
''Well, good land, Hetty Pringle
who is a-goin to climb that hill an
scramble through them berry bushes
to put flowers on the grave of sech 8
good for nothin'
Don't" said Miss Hetty, rising
fiercely. II can't bear to hear you
speak so Of him of any man who
gave up his life for his country"
"Waal, waal," retorted the widow
testify, Il dunno as it hurts him. He's
been dead long enough, so he shouldn't
have no feelin, an as for you | do re
| member now you was kinder sweet OF
him. WAL, wal! No offense." An(
the widow took herself away to tel
the story at her next visit.
Miss Hetty sat as one in a dream
The panorama of her simple life un
folded before her. She saw hersel
young and fair again; she recalled ;
handsome, happy go lucky face she hat
loved many years ago-the face of tn
! ne'er do well of the village; she hearC
again his voice as he said gOodby tt
her; when | come back, I'll try to b.
different. I'll make man of myself
and then-Hettyw
She remembered how she had an
swered that question. Again the lone
ly little old maid felt strong arms in
fold her and the pressure of young lip
on her cheek. But he never came bacl
to claim her, and he lay now alone, for
gotten by his former neighbors an,
friends-by all save by one faithful
sad old heart.
Twilight deepened into night. Mis-
Hetty rose and, lighting her lamp, sa
down to read, as was her evening Gus
tom. Tonight she picked up a volum
of old verse. 1t was one William Bond
private, had given her when they wen
to school together. The first poem
that caught her attention was:
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
BY all their country's wishes best2
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
There Honor comes pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay.
Miss Hetty sighed, turned over a fey
pages and read:
On Fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
"Their silent tentsw The words ran
in Miss Hetty's ears. She pictured til
tents of the living-a vast forest O
snowy canvas, the white tents Of an al
my. From the corners of her fame
came suddenly the crash of splendi