Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1926-01-22
IN HIS
LONESOME
GRAVE
BY ELIZABETH EWING
20 by Short story Pub. Coz


volving gate at the back of one
Il of the city's old cemeteries. There
the grass was short and trim; the
dead lay in decorous mounds and
fiower-fragrant peace under their mar
BILE and granite headstones.
At short distance to my left
across a sunlit space of waving grass,
low live oak threw its knotty
branches over a sunken grave, almost
completely hiding 1t from view. AS
my eyes became accustomed to the
Pickering shadows beyond the strong
sunlight, saw low stone coping and
sunken headstone, both half covered by
the coarse creeping vines that spread
their glossy tendrils over the grave
itself 1t was in no wise different from
many another old and neglected grave
to be found in any burial place, but 1t
was the only one to be seen from my
little hollow and fell to thinking.
What about this grave so far from
its fellows?
Whoever lay there must have been
buried years ago; the weatherworn
and sunken stone and matted vines
bore mute evidence to that fact. There
was a name on the stone.
Slowly I read through the Pickering
shadows-Paul Clifford. aged twenty
elght-that was all No date, no
Birthplace leaned back and gazed
wistfully; my book lay unheeded on
my lap.
Paul Clifford, aged twenty-eightl
Had he lived SO long and merited
so littleT Were there none left to
be blind to his faults and add to hIs
memory a tender word Of regret or
hope Of Immortality?
Some graves mutely tell their story /;
this one was eloquent In its silence.
Suddenly the wood-chopping ceased,
and a moment later the old man came
hObbling along the path, his rake over
his shoulder. His leathery face was
tanned almost to the color of the soil
he worked in and he glanced at me
with shrewd and kindly blue eyes as
he passed. Meeting his look. I felt
impelled to speak.
"Can you tell me-" asked, "why
this grave"-nodding in its direction
tiles on this side OF the hlll-so
far from the others? I've been sit
ting here wondering-for want of
something better to do" I added, half
apologetically.
The old mans weather-beaten face
relaxed and he walked slowly over
the grass toward me-
mo one belongin' to you, suppose"
he said. carefully shifting his quid
Of tobacco to the other cheek. I shook
my head
HE was berrled afore cum here"
he said slowly. II only live here five
ear. heerd say he wor an Eng
lishman."
He leaned on his rake and peered
through the warm sunlight over to-
ward the grave.
ut is kinder curi'us," he resumed
my orders is to do nothin' 'cept to
clip them vines and keep 'em from
CROWN too thick and hidIn' the name
on the stone. They're particular about
that. They say there's a lady some
where's In tn old country sends money
every FIVE ear to have It done-twict
as much as It would cost to plant
flowers and make 1t look purity, but
she won't have nothin' more done to
It,"
WELL" he wound up, philosophical
ly, again shifting his quid and
shOuldering his rake, III folks is will
in to pay for work they don't want
done, it's none o. my business. I got
plenty to do outside o. that" and
touching his rough cap, he hobbled
off.
Soon he was back at his old oc-
cupation, and again the steady strokes
Of wood-chopping rang rythmically
through the air.
My meadow lark at intervals trilled
forth his short sweet notes. The warm
sunlight fell about me; shadows like
soft gray ghosts wavered and fell
about the quiet grave and again fell
to dreaming.
SO Paul Clifford, though long dead.
had still one who loved him we'll
a wife, perhaps, more likely an old
mother.
Death-to whom the llfe-weary hold
out longing, unavailing arms-had
surely come to him too soon. Had he
gone willingly with the cold Presence.
or had the ties OF earth curled soft
ly round his heart and drawn him
back2
| must have spoken aloud, for q
low voice at my side answered me.
Strangely enough, was not startled;
IT was as though I had been expect
Ing It.
A man stood beside me. He was
young, and his fair hair swept from
a forehead as white as a girls. His
blue eyes, large and soft, were bent
upon me-
you are interested in yonder grave"
he said, gently.
yes" answered, though I never
saw 1t till few minutes ago"
He was looking at me intently.
IT have waited through the heat of
many a summer and the cold and rain
Of winter" he said, with low and
thrilling emphasis, land never till now
have / found one who looked upon
that poor grave with tender regard
save one-and she has not seen 1t
with her mortal eyes"
I was not greatly surprised at his
words or tone, nor did the improperly
Of entering into conversation with O
stranger In such a place occur to me.