The citizen. [volume] (Berea, Ky.) 1899-1958, 1919-05-08

"You from Canton 7" she exclaimed.
why, Of all things That's where my
boys home Is. I'm glad TO see you. Go
an put your horse In the barn."
dismounted and she came near me.
"sllas Wright Is my boy" she said.
What Is your nameT
Barton Baynes," I answered rs I
hitched my horse.
Barton Baynesi Why, SiIas has
told me all about you in his letters.
He writes to me every week. Come
ond sit down."
We sat down together on the porch.
"Silas wrote In his last letter that
you were going to leave your place In
Cobleskill," she continued to my sur
prise. Gle said that he was glad You
had decided not to stay"
II was joyful news to me, for the
senator's silence had worried me and I
had begun to think with alarm of my
future.
81 wish that he would take you to
Washington to help him. The poor
man has too much to do"
81 should think " n great privilege
&c CO." | answered.
"My boy likes you" she went on.
you have been brought up just as he
was. used to read TO him every eve
ming when the candles were III. How
hard he worked to make n man OF him.
selfi I have known the mothers Joy.
can truly say, Now let thy servant
depart In peace"
"Tor mine eyes have seen thy sal.
vation,'" quoted.
"You see I know much about you
and much about your aunt and uncle"
said Mrs. Wright
She left me for n moment and soon
the whole household was gathered
about me on the porch. the men hav-
ing come up from the fields They put
my horse in the barn and pressed me
10 stay for dinner, which | did. AS |
was going the gentle old lady gave
me pair Of mittens which her distln-
guished son had worn during his last
winter in college. remember well
how tenderly she handled theml
81 hope that SIlas will get you to
help him"-those were the last words
she said to me when ] babe her good
by.
The shadows were long when I got
to Canterbury. At the head of its
main street | looked down upon a vii
lage green and some fine old elms. II
was n singulnrly quiet place. stopped
In front of a big white meeting house.
An old man was moving in its grave
yard near the highway. Slowly he
swung his scythe.
'Do you know where Kate Fullerton
livesf" | asked.
well, it's purity likely that do" he
answered as he stood resting on his
srath. 1--WE lived seventy-two years
on this hill come the fourteenth day o.
June, an II didn't know where she
lived I'd be 'shamed of II. Do you see
that big house down there In the
treesr
l could see the place at which he
pointed far back from the village street
In the valley below us, the house near
ly hidden by tall evergreens.
"Yes," I answered.
"Wal, that's the Squire Fullerton
place-he's Rates father"
Does the squire live there7"
mo, sir-not eggzac'ly. He's dyin'
tbere-been dyin' there for two year
er more. BY gosh It's wonderful how
hard tits fer some folks to quit breath
in. Say, be you any o. his family?"
mo"
"Nor no friend O. hisT'
"Nol"
Course not. He never had a friend
In his life-too meant He's too mean
to die. mister-too mean fer hell an
wouldn't wonder-honest. l wouldn't
mebbe that's why God is keepin' him
here-jest TO meller him up a little.
Say, mister, be you in a hurryf"
"No."
"Say. hitch yer boss an come In
here. want to show We suthln'."
| dismounted and hItched my horse
to the fence and followed him into the
old churchyard. between weather
stained messy headstones and graves
cvergrown with wild roses. Near the
fur end of these thick-sown acres he
stopped.
Here's where the buryin' begun"
said my guide. ''The first hole In the
kill was dug for Fullerton"
There were many small monuments
and slabs of marble-some spotted
with lichens and all In commemoration
Of departed Fullertons.
"Say, look a that" said my guide as
he pulled aside the stem OF a leafy
brier red with roses. "Jest read that.
mister"
My keen eyes slowly spelled out the
tlme-worn words on a slab OF stained
marble:
Sacred TO the memory OF
Katherine Fullerton
l7Sl-lS06
proclaim his Word IN every place
That they are dead who fall from grace"
A dark shadow fell upon the house
of my soul and heard loud rapplng
at its door which confused me until,
looking out, saw the strange truth of