ORCHARD KNOB. 101 



suddenly struck in the face with this notice 

 in flaring capitals: KEEP OUT! THIS 

 MEANS You ! That is brutality beyond ex- 

 cuse. But perhaps it answers its purpose. 

 For my own part, I got out of the neighbor- 

 hood as quickly as possible. I liked better 

 the society of the graves ; at such a price a 

 dead soldier was better than a live superin- 

 tendent; and to take the unpleasant taste 

 out of my mouth I stopped to read again a 

 stanza on one of the metal tablets set at in- 

 tervals along the driveway : 



" On Fame's eternal camping ground 



Their silent tents are spread, 

 And Glory guards, with solemn round, 

 The bivouac of the dead." 



Far be the day when these Southern fields 

 of Northern graves shall fall into forgetful- 

 ness and neglect. 



