had cleaned the graveyard. Only the myrtle and cinquefoil covered it. I thought the sheriff would be ashamed at that, but his face brightened.
"It is disaster, Abner, that brings a man back to his duties to the dead. In prosperity we forget, but in poverty we remember."
"The Master," replied Abner, "was not very much concerned about the dead; nor am I. The dead are in God's keeping! It is our duties to the living that should move us. Do you remember, Smallwood, the story of the young man who wished to go and bury his father?"
"I do," said Smallwood, "and I have always held him in honor for it."
"And so, too, the Master would have held him, but for one thing."
"What thing?" said Smallwood.
"That the story was an excuse," replied Abner.
I saw the light go out of the man's face and his lips tremble; and then he said what I was afraid he would say.
"Abner," he said, "if you are determined to gouge this thing out of me, why here it is: I cannot bear to live in this community any longer. I am ashamed to see those upon whom I have brought misfortune—Elnathan Stone, and your brother Rufus, and Adam Greathouse. I have made up my mind to leave the country forever, but I wanted to see the place where my father was buried before I went, because I shall never see it again. You don't under-
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