Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 May 1875 — Both Sides of the Shield. [ARTICLE]

Both Sides of the Shield.

Two travelers from distant parts of the country met the other day at a hotel in Philadelphia, and one proposing a visit to Laurel Hill the other accompanied him. “ I had in fact no other object in stopping in the city,” said the first, “ thali to find a grave in this cemetery.” “ You have a kinsman buried here?” ‘ ‘ More than that —the best friend I ever had. A queer old fellow, a Quaker merchant, in whose house 1 was an errandboy. He took a fancy to me, educated me liberally, set me up in business in New Orleans, and as long as he lived never ceased to watch over me with the care and tenderness of a father.” The man’s voice began to grow husky and his eyes wet. “ I tell you,” he said, “ God has left some genuine salt in the world. When I think how many people are the better and happier because that man has lived ; when I remember the slaves whom he helped to free, the asylums that he founded, the strait economy and lavish almsgiving of his home, I actually feel, sir, as if this ground under our feet was made holy because his body lies in it.”

They were walking then through the dusky alleys of the cemetery. His companion was silent, from sympathy, a few' moments. , “ I never knew but one Philadelphian,” he said presently, “ and he is dead. A Quaker too—-^Sugar importer. Used to transact a good deal of business with out firm in New York. The very closest, sharpest man in a bargain I ever knew —a very steel-trap of a man—would argue an hour about a penny. An implacable old Shylock, too. There was young Graves, a fast young fellow, who cheated him of a few dollars. Well, he pushed that matter inexorably, in spite of all that we could do. Graves was the only son of his m filler, too, and she a widow. Justice! justice! —that was his cry, until he sent the lad to Sing Sing, and to perdition. But, luckily

the old man’s dead now. H’Uo! here’s his grave, and a marble shaft over him!” “I raised that over my benefactor,” said his friend.— Rebecca Harding Davit, in Scribner's Monthly.