The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1913-03-12
He Kept Each Night At
the Lonely Grave
WHERE HIS lovEO ONE SLEPT
And Made Him a Wanderer
Ger the Earth Without
Possible Comfort.
GRAPHIC STORY OF TWO LIVES
written for The Herald


Whether it were an appeal to
that softness in human nature
which yields ready aid to misfor-
tune. or the true. but melancholy
history of a human being with
brain to think and a heart 10 feel.
| do not know. but the strangenes
of the story engages its recital.
A middleaged tramp. arrayed in
frayed gentility. approached me for
a donative. pointed him TO
lumber mill where help WIS wanted.
Let those have work who have
heart for the wage he sadly said.
Il want only a cruse OF Tread"
There was note of pathos in
the poor fellows voice and a laid
resignation in his passive face that
kindled my curious interest in his
history which | resolved to know.
| ordered his supper at a public
house, where later | joined him.
and engaged him to tell me his
story of how he became wander
ing parasite. am writing from
memory. but | was so sensibly
moved by the intensely human, If
wholly impractical circumstance,
that think ! scarce miss-a sylla-
BILE of his story as he told 1t.
You may think. sir" he began.
That | have sacrificed common
sense to silly sentiment, but nature
endows us differently Ii reflects
no shame on the morning star that
its rich. rare light is lost in a ris-
ing sun.
My dear young wife was the /
goddess of heart whose weakness |
was its strength to love. was en-
dowed in the womb OF fate with |
that fateful passion that massed its
force in siege of the heart of rud-
dy-eheeked maid of New Hamp- |
shire hills. and won.s But scarce
had the petals on the nuptial altar |
dropped from their withered stems
till the blanch of death was on her
face" His faltering voice had be-
trayed the fullness of his sorrow,
and. in anxious silence | waited for
him to resume. When he had COM
posed his feelings. he continued in
lower and sadder stones:
1T was the dreaded white death.
the most painless to it's victims and
the most painful TO their friends, of
all the diseases that destroy our
race. AS day by day the grim art
list. Death. added another touch of
pa!lor TO her face. Rugged the thin
form closer TO my heart. | saw at
last the end was near and begged
her to extend her dominion over
me, even after her death. by direct
ing some perpetual service TO her
memory. ! shudder to think
she said. that my poor dust must
sleep through the long. dark hours
OF the night, out yonder on the
blum, with no one near it. | could
die happier if | knew you would
come to my grave each day at sun
set and kindle little fire, like the
ancient vestal virgins. and keep 1t !
burning through the night {
Il sealed the promise with a kiss {
and for eight long years | saw the {
evening sunset only from that sa- !
cred spot. Those night-long watches I
beneath twinkling stars or amid {
shrieking storms were all that {
asked OF dull, cold world from 1
all that | loved had flown. {
But fate, that blind sickle that 7
mows alike hope and care. would I
not leave me even a lonely grave. |
One day an earthquake shook 1
New Hampshire's hills and great e
landslide was buried in the depths
of the lake below. Hidden now
where no search could hope to find.
nor vestal fires Hume. was that sa-
red dust that bound me TO this
lie, and eursing that fate which
would rob life of the last ray of
hope and that grave. | am be- h
'ome an aimless wanderer till death I
relieves me and the world of one v
another"
had listened to a story OF an h
injury ! could not hope to repair. I
'at mutely still while the tramp.
observing the clearing skies. strobe
'ut into the night to find his won't y
d bed by the dusty roadside. c
j. II. THOMAS. a