"Brother Gray-frock, how do you do?" cried the child, joyously,
caressing the pretty creature with light touches. "I wondered if I
should see you to-day, brother. The last time I came you were off
hunting somewhere, and I called and called, but no gray brother came.
How is the wife, and the children, and how is the stout young man?"
The "stout young man" lay buried at the farther end of the ground,
under the tree in which the squirrel lived. The inscription on his
tombstone was a perpetual amusement to Melody, and she could not help
feeling as if the squirrel must know that it was funny too, though
they had never exchanged remarks about it. This was the inscription:
"I was a stout young man
As you would find in ten;
And when on this I think,
I take in hand my pen
And write it plainly out,
That all the world may see
How I was cut down like
A blossom from a tree.
The Lord rest my soul."
The young man's name was Faithful Parker. Melody liked him well
enough, though she never felt intimate with him, as she did with Susan
Dyer and the dear child Love Good, who slept beneath this low white
stone. This was Melody's favorite grave. It was such a dear quaint
little name,--Love Good.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72