Melinda's Grave.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 5267, 10 July 1888, Page 4

Melinda's Grave.

"I havo bought the farm, and I will plough up the whole field, as I have a right to." : Job Wilbur spoke in a stern, decisive I voice. Ho : was not naturally harsh or unkind, but ho had all his life been keen at a bargain, and was one of the sort who are all the time saying that " right ia right," and making that much abused axiom an excuse for exacting the pound of flesh. He had foreclosed a mortgage on. Widow Photteplace's farm, and bought it in himself, and now ho was preparing to do tho spring ploughing. The farm, like many a New England homestead, had its familyburying ground, in which rested the bones of the Phetteplace family for all the generations sinco the first settlement of Plymouth Colony. This burying groxmd was in the centre of the best field, and Job had determined to plough through it. This he had a right to do, for the deed of mortgage contained no reservation; and with Job Wilbur to havo a right, was to enforce it. The Widow Photteplaco had no child to Elead for her, and was ill able to say a word erself against Job Wilbur's determination ; for, having clung to the old farm until her last penny was gone, and the last barrel of potatoes was eaten, Bho was now mournfully, but resignedty, packing up to go to the peor-house. When Job uttered his harsh to her timid and hesitating intercession in behalf of her husband's bones, the widow made no further remonstrance ; but with silent tears wenton with the preparations fordeparture. Job turnod to his hired man, and ordered him to go ahead with the ploughing. " Cut right across there," he said, pointing toward the graves, from which tho fenco had already been removed ; '' and I will see about taking the headstones out of tho way." it was a typical Now England farm burying-ground. Tho rough, unlettered etoiie of the earlier years of settlement, the slate of the latter half of tho last century, and several slabs of the most ornate and costly granite, boro mute testimony to the struggles and progress of the occupants. Job Wilbur walked over to tho buryingground, somo distance ahead of the plough. He looked tho headstones over. Some of the inscriptions were overgrown with moss, and tho slabs almost concealed among - thu luxuriant weeds; for tho Widow Phetteplaco had been too distracted of lato to tidy up the graves of her husband's kindred and her own. , Job stepped from tho pasture into the burying lot. The first row of stones was of Ihe'old unlettered sort. These he readily removed, and placed in a heap near tho centre; for Job, even at sixty-five, could handle rocks aud build a wall with any of his men. He was about to start for another gravestone when bis eye casually rested on an inscription. It was old and moss-grown, and only two or three letters were discernible, but these caught Job Wilbur's eye, and struck a chord in his memory. With an unwonted tremblmgiti his hand, the old man briiehed aside the weeds, and scraped "the moss, so that he might read. Tho inscription was as follows: — Mkunda Phkttei'Lace. Died October 12, 1837. Aged 15 Years aud 3 Months Daughter of Jonathan and Rebecca Phetteplaco. We will meet in Heaven. This wae all. But what was tho matter with Job Wilbur f Why did he raiso his hand to his head, as if dazed by some unexpected vision ? Were those teal's on his rugged cheeks f Yes, Job Wilbur was moved ; tho fountain of his heart had beeu touched. Tho dead child had struck the chord tho living i could not rench. It was a long-forgotten: scene that enmo back to his mind. An old' school-house near tho Corners ; a brown-1 haired girl who had the seat next to him,: who helped him in his lessons, who smiled' upon his success, and was sad when he went down in his class. Then came her sudden taking oft' with the bane of her famiiy—■ consumption—end his boyish grief, which at tho time hud seemed inconsolable. Tho struggles of yours had almost effaced; that memory, but the moss-grown graveHtono brought it back as green as fifty years before. Tho plough had nearly reached tho grouiid, and tho hired ruun was about to skirt tho firat row of sacred if not consecrated mounds. " Stay !" cried Job. " Wait till I como back from the house." Tho Widow Photteplaco had packed all her things, imd was about to start. Slid was taking ono long, lingering look from tlio window, when Job reached the cottage., She looked upon his appaoach with surprise, for abe had expected him to keep out of the way until she nad jrono. ] " Widow," said Job, in a voice that sounded vcy differently from tho atom toud to which she had been so accustomed, when Job came to demand the interest on his mortgage), *' you can live hero as long aa j you please. I will not plough up the burying-ground. Hero is money to buy things, and when you want more things j send over to my houso for them." I Job luid a fivo-dolhu , billon tho table and started away. The Widow Phettepluce never knew the causu of Job Wilbur's change of heart. She was too astonished and too grateful to aski She still lives in comfort on the Phottpplace farm, the old gravestones are back in their places, and the gossips aro wondering why Job Wilbur goes out of his way bo often to tako a walk through the Phetteplaco burying-ground.