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Updated: May 23, 2025
'Tis more from hatred of t' others than love of you, when all's said. An' it ban't no gert gold mine. But I'd like to be laid along wi' Coomstock; an' doan't, for God's love, bury Lezzard wi' me; an' I want them words on auld George Mundy's graave set 'pon mine not just writ, but cut in a slate or some such lasting thing. 'Tis a tidy tomb he've got, wi' a cherub angel, an' I'd like the same.
Then, to Bodmin Court, theer comes a law case, an' they wanted Tregagle, an' a man said Tregagle was the awnly witness, and another said he wadden. The second man up an' swore 'If Tregagle saw it done, then I wish to God he may rise from's graave and come this minute. Then, sure enough, the ghost of Tregagle 'peared in the court-house an' shawed the man was a liar.
Them as suffered for the sins o' other folk, like what she done, has theer hell-fire 'pon this side o' the graave, not t'other." "I lay that's a true sayin'," declared Noy shortly. "I won't keep 'e ower-long from your beds," he added. "If you got a drink o' spirits I'll thank you for it; then I'll put a question or two to she to Mary Chirgwin, if she'll allow; an' then I'll get going."
An' when I'm dead an' in my graave, An' all my bones be rotten. The greedy worms my flaish shall ate, An' I shall be forgotten; For Christ's sake. Amen." Having sucked from repetition of this ancient twaddle exactly that sort of satisfaction the French or Roman peasant wins from a babble of a dead language over beads, Billy retired with many a grunt and sigh of satisfaction.
My heart be pumping wind, lifeless wind; my lung-play's gone, tu, an' my sight's come awver that coorious. Be Gaffer Lezzard nigh?" "Here, alongside 'e, Bill." "Gimme your hand then, an' let auld scores be wiped off in this shattering calamity. Us have differed wheer us could these twoscore years; but theer mustn't be no more ill-will wi' me tremblin' on the lip o' the graave."
She stooped to pick a primrose and an opening bud; but Joe stopped her. "Doan't 'e pluck 'em. Never take no flowers off of a graave. They'm all the dead have got." "But they'll die, Joe. Theer's frost bitin' in the air already. They'll be withered come marnin'." "No matter for that," he said; "let 'em bide wheer they be." The man was silent a while as he looked at the mound. Then he spoke again.
"Goose-flaish down the spine do mean as theer's feet walkin' 'pon my graave, I s'pose," she thought, as a heavy knock at the front door interrupted her reflections. Hastening to open it, Joan found the postman a rare visitor at Drift. He handed her a letter and prepared to depart immediately.
A gert pichsher o' Joan he drawed all done out so large as life; an' I found it, an' it 'peared as if the dead was riz up again an' staring at me. If 'tis all the saame to you, Mary, us'll go an' look 'pon her graave now, for I abbun seen it yet." They walked in silence for some hundred yards along the lanes to Sancreed. Then Noy spoke again. "How be uncle?" "Betwix' an' between.
Wise though the man was, he set no store on the dark, hidden meaning of honey-bees at times of death. Now the creatures be masterless, same as you an' me; an' they'll knaw it; an' you'll see many an' many a-murmuring on his graave 'fore the grass graws green theer; for they see more 'n what we can."
Men go down to the graave every second o' the day an' night, but if you could see the sawls a streamin' away, thicker'n a cloud of starlings, you'd find a mass, black as a storm, went down long, an' awnly just a summer cloud like o' the blessed riz up. Hell's bigger'n Heaven; an' er's need to be, for Heaven's like to be a lonely plaace, when all's said.
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