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But what did you call the writing on the stones in the graveyard? Was that a prescription or a subscription?" "That was an inscription," was the answer, and perhaps it is small wonder that Anna exclaimed in despair, "Oh, this terrible English! Can I ever get it!" On the whole, however, she was very much at home with the English language.
One of the countless birds fluttered low, as if frightened at the advancing dark, brushed her cheek, then winged on and up and was lost in the tree above her. Somewhere deep in the gloom shrouding the little graveyard came the ghostly flutter of an owl.
"What made you jump so, then?" "A mosquito bit me," laughed Laud. But it was a graveyard laugh. "Leach paid the bill to Captain Patterdale you say?" "Yes, and Captain Patterdale says there is something wrong about the bill," continued Donald, who was far from satisfied with the explanation of his companion. "What was the matter? Wasn't the bill good?" inquired Laud.
At the southern bank I had less difficulty in getting the coffin ashore, dragging it up to the graveyard. It was now past two o'clock, and the dawn had begun; so that I had no further trouble for want of light. I wheeled the coffin to a patch of loamy soil which I had noticed in the afternoon near the grave of the holy sisters.
"JA, JA, we will see. I will hitch the boy's mare to the cart and go." Signa followed him across the wagon-shed to the horses' stable. She was shivering with cold and excitement. "Where do you suppose she can be, Ivar?" The old man lifted a set of single harness carefully from its peg. "How should I know?" "But you think she is at the graveyard, don't you?" Signa persisted.
It was three days after I had come home for the long vacation, and, being pretty well tired out with sniffing about the island like a cat returned to the old house, I sprawled at rest on the "Wreck of the Lillian" stone in the graveyard on Rigg's Dome.
Sometimes I have waited outside the graveyard, and watched a little spot under a shady tree, where no one ever goes, and I have thought how pleasant it would be to lie down there, with the daisies and violets to creep over me lovingly, and never wake again to any more pain.
I was glad that I was here to be with him and lay him decently in his coffin. The handful of Americans in Rome followed him last evening at dusk, close by twilight, and buried him in the Protestant graveyard, near the grave of Shelley's ashes and heart. The roses were in full blossom, as Shelley says they used to be in midwinter.
Half a hundred surprised, curious faces turned toward Bi, who, during Hecker's statement, had looked at first contemptuous, then bewildered, and finally comprehending. For about ten seconds the room was as still as a graveyard. Then Bi stepped up with outstretched hand like a little man, and for the second time that day we went crazy!
Modern improvement has a particular spite against the landmarks of antiquity. The railroad to Baltimore slices off a part of the Swedish graveyard an institution much more ancient than the church which stands on it.
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