The Courier. (Genoa, Nev.) 1899-1904, 1902-01-31

II,
perfectly disgusted with 'new-fangled
| fashions" she retreated into the kitchen,
where she found things more to her taste,
| and thanked her stars she could, if she
liked, eat with her fingers, and wipe
| them on her pocket handkerchief"
Soon after her engagement Mary had
asked that Sally should go with her to
her city home. To this George willingly
assented, and it was decided that she
! should remain with Mrs. Mason until the
bridal party returned from the western
tour they were intending to take. Sally
knew nothing of this arrangement until
the morning of the wedding, when she
was told that she was not to return to
the poorhouse again.
And verify, have this day met with
a great delyerance," said she, and tears,
/ the hrst shed in many a year, mingled
with the old creatures thanks for this
unexpected happiness. AS Mary was leav-
, ing she whispered in her ear, IF your
travels lead you near my Willie's grave
drop a tear on 1t for my sake. You'll
find it under the buckeye tree, where the
tall grass and wild flowers grow"
George had relatives in Chicago, and
aAbcl bpSuullB Il suOIl llIlS III ludL city
Mary, remembering Sally's request, ex-
pressed desire to visit the spot renown-
ed as the burial place of willie and
Willies father Ever ready to crafty
her slightest wish, George consented, and
toward the close of a mild autumnal day
they stopped at a small public house on
the border Of vast prairie. The arrival
of SO distinguished-lookin people caus-
ed quite a commotibn, and after duly in
specting Mary's handsome travelling
dress and calculating it's probable cost,
the hostess departed to prepare the even
Ing meal, which was soon forthcoming
When supper was over and the family
had gathered into the pleasant sitting
room, George asked il there was ever a
man in those parts by the name Of Fur
! bush
What! Bill Furbush?" asked the land
lord
George did not know, but thought like
| ly that might have been his name, as his
son was called William.
"Lud, yesl' returned the landlord. Il
llnowed Bill Furbush well-he came here
from Massachusetts, and | from Var
mont but, poor feller, he was too weakly
to bear much, and the first fever he took
finished him up. His old woman was as
clever a creature as ever was, but she
had some high notions"
"Did she die, too?" asked George.
"No, but it's pity she didn't, for when
| Bill and the boy died she went rayin'
mad, and | never felt so like cryin' as |
| did when | see her tearin' her hair and
goin on so. We kept her a spell, and
| then her old mans brothers girl came for
her and took her off; and the last heard
| the girl was dead, and she was in the
| poorhouse somewhere East. She was
born there, b'lieye."
| "No, she wornt, either" said the land
| lady, who for some minutes had been
aching to speak. mo. she warn't, either;
| | know all about it. She was born in
| England, and got to be quite a girl be-
| fore she came over. Her name was
Sarah Fletcher, and Peter Fletcher, who
died with the cholera, was her own un-
Gle, and all the connection she had in
| this country; but goodness, SUI, what ails
/ your" she added, as Mary turned white,
/ while George passed his arm around her
! to keep her from falling. Here, So
phrony, fetch the campfire; she's goin'
to faint"
But Mary did not faint, and after
smelling the camphor, she said, go on,
madam, and tell me more Of Sarah
| Fletcher"
"She can do It," whispered the land
lord, with a sly wink. "She knows ev-
erybodys history from Dan to Beer
shelby"
'This intimation was wholly lost on the
good -humored hostess who continued,
"Mr. Fletcher died when Sarah was
small, and her mother married a Mr.,
| don't justly remember his name
"TempleY suggested Mary.
"Yes, TenIle, that's it. He vas rich
and cross, and broke her heart by the
time she had her second baby. Sarah
was adopted by her Grandmother Fletch-
er, who died, and she came with her
uncle to America"
Ibid she ever speak of her sistersT'
asked Mary, and the woman replied:
"Before she got crazy she did. One
of em, she said, was in this country
somewhere, and t'other, the one she re-
membered the best, and talked the most
about, lived in England. She said she
wanted to write to EN-, but her uncle, he
hated the Temples, so he wouldn't let her
and as time went on she kinder forgot
'em, and didn't know where to direct,
and after she took crazy she never would
speak of her sisters, or own that she had
any,"
"Is Mr.. Furbush buried near hereT
asked George, and the landlord answered
'"I.ittle better than a stones throw.
can see the very tree from here, and may.
| be your younger eyes can make out the
graves. He ought to have gravestun.
for he was a good feller."
The new moon was shining, and Mary,
who came to her husbands side, could
plainly discern the buckeye tree, and the
| two graves where "Willie and Willie's
father" had long been sleeping. The
next morning before the sun was up Mary
stood by the mounds where often In
years gone by Sally Furbush had seen the