SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 172 | Next

Catherwood, Mary Hartwell, 1847-1902

"Old Caravan Days"

All these stood open letting out a pleasant
hum, through which the cracked voice of an old man occasionally
broke. No hump of belfry stood upon its back. The afternoon sun was
the bell which called that neighborhood together for Sunday-school.
And this unconscious duty performed, the afternoon sun now brightened
the graves which crowded to the very fence, brought out the glint and
polish of the new marble headstones, or showed the grooved names in
the old and leaning slate ones. Some graves were enclosed by rails,
and others barely lifted their tops above the long grass. There were
baby-nests hollowing into the turf, and clay-colored piles set head
and foot with fresh boards. And on all these aunt Corinne looked with
an interest which graves never failed to rouse in her, no matter what
the occasion might be.
[Illustration: THE FIRST MESSENGER.]
The horses switched their tails along the outside of the fence. One
backed his vehicle as far as his hitching-strap would let him,
against the wheels of another's buggy, that other immediately
responding by a similar movement. Some of them turned their heads and
challenged Hickory and Henry and the saddle-horse with speaking
whinneys.


Pages:
160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184