Rensselaer Union, Volume 6, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1874 — WILLIE. [ARTICLE]

WILLIE.

BY P. DEMING.

It frightened us a good deal when we found the little dead boy. We were three country lads going home across the lots at noon for our dinner. In passing a lonely pasture ground we saw a little basket lying ahead of us upon the grass. We made a race for it and Ed captured the prize; a little further on we picked up a small hat which we at once recognized ■'as Willie Dcdrick’s. Then we turned the angle of the zig-zag rail fence, nfad there in the corner, jamrted close under the bottom rail, was beautiful little Willie, only five years old. His clothing was torn and bloody, and he didjnot move; we felt a little afraid because he was so still, but we went up to him. lie was dead, and his plump little features were all blackened with great bruises. It shocked us very much. Only three hours before we had been playing with Willie at the pond. We felt that it was a terrible thing to find him dead in this unlooked-for manner. We asked each other what Walter and Mary would do when they should hear of this; Willie was the only boy they had. And then the question came up what we ought to do under such circumstances. There was no one in sight to tell us. It was suggested that tve might take up the body and carry it home to Walter and Mary; it was not far through the lot and down the bank to the pond, where their home was. It seemed natural and right at first that we should take the chubby little boy and carry him home. But we shrank* from the presence of death even in the form of little Willie; and besides that we had certain dim and confused ideas, as country lads do who read the city newspapers, that somehow a Coroner was necessary, and that it would not be lawful or safe for us to meddle with Willie thus strangely found dead from an unknown cause. So we sat down upon the large stones near by Willie and held a council. There was no chairman appointed and no secretary, and none of the surroundings that ordinarily belong to deliberative bodies; nevertheless in all the essentials of a great council this occasion was very eminent. Here were three lads seated upon three fragments of the ancient granite which strews the northern slope of the Adirondack Mountains, and below them stretched the wild woods, away to the valley of the mighty St. Lawrence; and In their midst, upon that bright summer day, sat the skeleton king with his awful scepter and his iron crown, pressing upon their young hearts those matchless t errors Which have ruled the world since time began. It was an august presence, and the boys felt their responsibility more than members of councils ordinarily do. Their final conclusion was that one of their number, must go and tell Walter and Mary, while the other two watched the body. It required quite as much courage as wisdom to reach this conclusion, for to tell the parents was a task the boys dreaded. The Iqt was cast, country-boy fashion, with three* blades of grass, to determine who should be the messenger of evil tidings. The list fell upon Phil, and he immediately rose up to start. Ed. suggested at this point that in sending word the death ought to be ascribed to some cause. The boys had been very much puzzled from the first toknowwhat could have done it. They gazed about the pasture ground to discover what suggestion could be made. There were-a couple of horses, some cows,' and some sheep grazing in a distant part of the inclosure. As soon as it was suggested that one of the horses might perhaps have done it bf kicking Willie, the boys accented thanas the natural and undoubted solution of the mystery. And so Phil took that word with him. Phil went upon a little trot through the lot and dow n the bank, moving rapidly so that his heart might not have time to quail or shrink; and in less than five minutes he stood by the little house near the pond. He looked in at the door, which was wide open upon this warm summer day, and thern hn aaw Walter and Mary. Walter saf cleaning the lock of his rifle, while the gun itself was lying across his Jap. Doubtless Phil’s face was somewhat nrfte as he went in at the door, for Mary looked at him as if she saw something there,, and dreaded it. Thp lad had good sense; he did not blurt out ,the sad news suddenly. He said to Walter in a quiet way, “ Will you please to step out of the door with me; I wish to see you;" It was the earnestness of the voice, perhhps, that caused the man to put aside his gun and obey so quickly. When they were out of the house Phil said, “ I have bad news for you; we have found your little son in the lot, kicked by a horse, and we are afraid that he is so bad that he is dead.% Phil had thought of this way of saying it before he got to the house. When he said tread. Waitdr gave a little start and Said, “Is he dead!” Phil had to say, “Yes. we are afraid he is, and we think he is?’ , Walter stepped into the cottage and Phil stood at- the door to see how he , would tell Mary. Walter said, without any preface, ■“Ylary, our little Willie is dead I” “That was not a prudent thing,” the boy thought, as the tragic words fell

upon his car and fixed themselves in his memory. The effect of , the words upon Mary reminded the boy of the way he had seen a rifle-shot tell upon a rabbit or partridge. The woman passed through a kind of flutter or shudder for a moment and then sank straight down in a little heap upon the flpor. Then followed a series of quick gasps and catching for .breath, and short exclamations of “O dear! O dear!” and then the stifled shrieking began. Walter took his wife up in his strong arms, and tried to undo in part the sad work which had been accomplished upon her by the few words he had so suddenly and imprudently uttered. He said that Willie might not be dead after all, but only hurt. And so he placed her upon a bed, and he and Phil left her there and started to go and see Willie. Not many words were said us the man and boy climbed the bank and strode hastily along to the fatal spot. As they neared it there sat the two watchers, faithful to their post and as still as statues. Phil and Walter turned the angle of the fence, and the father came up to the body of his little son. He had not seemed stricken with grief until now, but only excited. As he looked steadily upon the chubby little form, all battered and bloody ana bruised, the lad who had brought him there felt that some word must be said. “ It’s a kick, ain’t it?” said he. That was hardly the right thing to say at such a moment, perhaps. The poor father choked and trembled, and replied, “A kick or a bite or something—O dear!” And then he turned his head and looked away, and there was the sound of his sobbing, and a strange, moaning cry. Walter would not stay by the body, but directed the boys to remain and watch while he himself went and brought his friend the doctor. ■ And then he turned away and went off over the fields toward the settlement, uttering load sobs and that same strange cry. It was hardly more than ten minutes’ walk down to the road toward which Walter directed his steps, and in a very short time the boys saw groups of men coming from the houses, up the acclivity, toward the fatal spot. They came hastily, two and three together, and soon a dozen or more were gathered around the three boys who had watched, and were gazing at the body. After the first look the men made characteristic remarks. “That is a rough piece of business!” said Dan. “ Fearful!” said Pete. “ That’s mighty queer work for a boss now, ain’t it?” said Levi, a tall, keen fellow intended by nature for a lawyer. “ It don’t look like a boss to me,” said another. And so they went on to comment and examine. It appeared that the rail under which Willie was jammed was dented and marked as if hammered by many blows. The three innocent boys who had originated the “ hoss theory, as the men called it, accounted for the marks on the rail by saying that the horse pawed Willie after he was under the fence. The men said they knew better; they began to question the boys as if they entertained suspicions in regard to them, and the boys became very uncomfortable. The men asked repeatedly just how the body was lying when the boys had found it, and inquired again and again whether they had moved it at all. The lads felt these insinuations very keenly. Men continued to come, and at length women came in groups, until quite an assembly was gathered there in the open field. Finally Walter returned slowly up the hill with a few friends, as if he were reluctant to come again to the place. Just as he readied the spot good old Father Mosely and his wife, a sharp, managing woman, came from the opposite direction and met Walter. Father and Mother Mosely lived down by the school-house, at the other side of the settlement. Mother Mosely at once seized hold of Walter, and while she wrung his hand exclaimecTlh a high voice that seemed to the boys not a becoming or natural voice in which to express grief: • ■ “ Oh, Walter! we can’t give him up; no, no, no; oh, dear!” The gesticulation which accompanied this was tragic arid stagey, and it was by far the most theatrical thingdone on that occasion. Father Mosely spoke a few words which interested the people very much. Hearing some allusion made to the “ hoss theory,” he said “ The little bqy >down at the school says it was a sheep that did it.” And then it came out that Willie’s playmate, Charlie Sanders, was “ the little boy down at the school,” and that Charlie had cried all the forenoon and dared not tell the teacher what the matter was; but finally at the noon-spell he told a little girl that Willie did not come to Miool because a sheep in the lot had chased them and knocked Willie down, and he could not get up. HereFwas light Tndeed, especially for the three lads, who had begun to feel, since the horse theory was criticised, as if they themselves were culprits unless they accounted for “ the murder.” Across the lot the sheep were still feeding. A young farmer stepped out of the crowd and called “ Nan, nan, nan.” and the flock, raising their heads, responded with a multitude of ba-a-as, ana came galloping over the grassy field. At their head was “ the old ram," a fine “ buck” with great horns curling in spirals around his ears. The young farmer held Willie’s basket in one hand, and making a brawny fist of the Other struck out toward the ram, offering him battle. The buck at once brought his head down in line of attack, squared-himself for a big butt, and came on with a little run, and a charge that in an artistic point of view was quite beautiful. The farmer, stepping aside, caught him by his horns as he came, arid that magnfftceflt charge was his last. There was a blood-thirsty feeling pervading the crowdjUridoubtedly, but Buck had a fair trial. There on his white, bold face and horns were the bright carmine drops of fresh blood. No other witnesses were needed. In a moment a glittering, keen knife flashed from somebody’s keeping in the bright sunshine, and in a moment more a purple stream dyed the white wool around Buck’s throat, and there was a red pool upon the grass; and a little later, as Dan remarked, “ some tough mutton.” The excitement abated; for the mystery was cleared up and Justice bad its due. Kind-hearted Joe, who superintended the Sabbath-school and led the religious ele. ment of the neighborhood, stepped forward and said to the crowd:

“ Well, boys, it is all right here, and no suspicion and no need of any ceremony; let us take him home.” And then Joe took Willie in nis arms and held him closely with the little -face against his own, as if he Were still living, and started for the cottage. Some of the people followed in a picturesque procession, through the pasture lot and down the bank and along by the shore of the pond. When Walter’s house was reached, a few of the women went in to soothe Mary; and Joe and the went in also, and the people clustered about the door. In the course of an hour it seemed that all had been done that could be done for Walter and Mary, and the people, except a few who remained as watchers and helpers, dispersed to their homes. The three days that followed were bright, sunny days. A strange stillness and unusual hush reigned in the neighborhood of the cottage. The harsh, grating sound of the saw-mill was not heard as at other times, for the mill was stopped in token of respect for the great sorrow. Only the softly-flowing stream was heard, mingling its »v*urru» with the hum of the bees in the garden Now and then groups of children, dressed in their Sunday attire, would come down the bank, and with hushed voices and fearful looks steal up toward the cottage door. Then kind Joe would see thenrand-would come out and take them in to see Willie; and after a few moments they would issue forth again and walk sadly homeward; aud as they went the sunlight dried their tears. And farmers and hunters cqme from many miles away “to see the little boy that was killed by a slieep.” Some of the rough men manifested their sympathy by exhibiting vindictive feelings toward the ram. After going in and viewing the bruised corpse they would come out with dark, determined looks, and grasping again the long rifles which they had brought with them and “ stood up” by the door they would inquire of any bystander, with fierce emphasis, whether the ram that “ did that” was dead. On being informed of his execution, they would say “That will do,” with an air that implied how mucli they would have enjoyed it to have had a shot at him. Indeed, it appeared that if the poor brute had been possessed of fifty or a hundred lives, so that each irate hunter might have taken one, it would have been a greatTeiief and satisfaction. On the fourth day Willie was buried. Mary continued inconsolable. All of the social influences which the neighborhood could command were put in operation from the time of the funeral onward, in order to cheer' her and bind up her wounded spirit. Social meetings were held and pleasant little gatherings made for her. Wherever there was enjoyment Mary must be. She gratefully submitted herself to all their kindness and tried to please her friends. But it seemed to do her little good. She remained pale, weak and dispirited. After a few months Walter and Mary discovered that somehow they were not suited with their farm. They sold the place at the first opportunity and returned to their former home in New England, the remains of little Willie having heen forwarded in advance to a cemetery there with which they in their early days had been familiar. — Atlantic Monthly. •