THE SACRED THIRTIETH DAY OF MAY. When Columbia Chants the Praises and Decorates the Graves of Her Dead Heroes I- II AFTER THIRTY YEARS A TIUtE was In I her gentli'Ht uiooil. Tlic Binisi't wiia L'orkToous. the uir cleftr uuil liKlit.iinil i the pretty eottiiKe nent mid InvitiiiK iih n naluce, yet it rWSW5nr-?? occuimnt sat at uie Xa-11 r vVni-roverwl win- t-Jk0 ,IA. '. , r..t uml UepreHHOil. The morrow was Dworiltii'ii Day, nun nun lor ulwaya nn orxaou o aiib.lueil norrow. MitiKled with nii'iiioriea of tl l"ro faithfully niourneU, however, wuh novy a fresh nml therefore i"'re poiK""".1 W'1' ind when she anise ami went out into the little Harden I lie saered, tender emotions Uiat nlway hallowed this season were clouded hy llio intrusion of a trouble icarcely her own. In tli near eenietery rested her hus banda piitriot who hail turned the tide f a great lint tie by his heroism, and who for twenty yeurs after the war was the pride of the little community l whieh lie lived. How faithfully she niourued him the carefully nurtured (lowers alwaya lathered on the eve of the coming memo rial day, as now, told to every neighbor, who, witli her, revered the memory of a true man and a brave soldier. "I'oor ltnrry!" she murmured, lifting ier tear-lllled eyes, and kIiiiicIiik nnxinuB- P. I.OVK CONV)l!KIIS ALL. ly down the road. "It will break hi heart when he know when he kuowa!" When he know what' Widow Mor ton looked across the valley to where a lately lumtner home reared It turret, ts If to silently answer the question. The place had been occupied by ttranger since February, wealthy city banker, who had brought hi only child, daughter of IS, and hi nenrant thither rarly in the year, tired of the city season, lie had come down to I.upton only occa sionally during the past three month, but winsome Kleanor Morse had been there all the time, sad bad become the favorite of the Tillage. The favorite of Barry, her Barry, A ld tw Morton' Barry, a well! The widow had trembled when he firt noted the evi dence of their incere attachment. But how could he have the heart to dim the bright ;oy In Barry' eye; how could be point out to him the insurmountable bar rier of wealth that would oppoee hi love tome day! AnJ now the end had come. mm Urn A l& W 4 353 Banker Morse had learned that his daugh ter had given her heart to a struggling young village physician. She, Mrs. Mor ton, had learned that afternoon of au angry scene nt the mansion, in which the purse-proud Morse had told his child .he would rather see her dead than the' wife of a nameless, penniless country doctor, and they were packing up now to leave Lupton forever. "Madam, can you direct me I nm look ing for the home of Dr. Morton?" The widow looked up. Then her heart began to tremble. She knew the speaker, though he did not know her the great inn n from the city. She saw in his nervous, suppressed man ner the anger that was ready to Hash forth at slight provocation. She guessed his mission he had come to parry bitter words with the young man who had stolen his daughter s heart. "1 am his mother, sir." slie said simply. "Will j on not come in and wait for him?" The banker twirled his great watch chain furiously, reflected impatiently, and nodded with curtuess. Then lis she showed him into the neat sitting room and placed her flowers on a table, and a sword and a belt nlmve it told their own story, a token of sudden interest came into the visitor's eyes. "Yon-yon are a soldier's widow, mad am?" he insinuated, almost reverently. "Yes, there is my hero!" She was heart full, and, pointing to a picture on the wall, she left the room, weeping over a tender memory, weeping because she knew this proud uian had come to crush her Barry's heart. "That!" echoed (he banker, arising, pale and startled, "that!" but tlie widow was gone, and did not hear him. Like a man in a dreiim he sat for fully ten minutes staring at the picture. Then, trembling, rapt, he arose and scanned the framed record of John Morton's war ser vice. "(.'hattnnoogn," he read. "That pic ture!" aud he took a small, faded, ragged counterpart from his pocketbook and coin pared them. "The same uiuu after all these years:" When Widow Morton re-entered that room fhortly afterwards, to her infinite surprise she found it untenanted, her vis itor gone. She had not the heart to tell what she had learned of Kleanor Morse, to tell of her mysterious visitor to Barry that day. The next, as they sat by John Morton's grave in the beautiful Lupton cemetery, after they had placed the flowers upon the mound revered, she was about to speak of it, when, glancing up, she saw npproach ing the man who bad visited her so strangely the day previously. He bowed to her gravely. He lifted hi bat, he placed beside her own simple flow ers on her husband's grave an exquisite wreath of rose. And then be sat down beside them. Mis eyes were full of tears. Memory aud fidel ity had broken down all bis pride, and In that moment the widow comprehended that her darling boy would never know how nearly he had lost the woman he loved. A soldier had saved Ilichard Morse's life at Chattanooga at the risk of his own nobly, heroically. There bad been a hurried exchange of photographs, prom ise never to forget, a quick alarm, cat tered force, and the two parted never to meet gain in life. But Ilichard Morse had never forgot ten, and gratitude (ealed the lip of pride and sanctioned the appeal of love on that bright, beautiful Memorial Day. Pare and Cndeflled Patriotism. Patriotism, pure and undefilcd, is one of the noblest sentiments that can inspire a human heart, and no page of history chronicle more sacrifice, more unselfish effort and more lofy and determined n- deavor tlian characterized the period of that bitter and uncompromising struggle. The hundredth part of it has never been told, aud only In the books of the record ing angels above are many of the entries to the credit of those who gave up every thing that they held dear that the honor of the American nation might be upheld and upon the historical battle grounds of the disputed territory, as well ns upon the scattered graves nil through the entire l. tuon, it is lilting and proper that gar lands be laid and that patriotic tears may fall. No Oath Needed. It is a plcatdng sight, albeit a sad one, to see the veterans of battles and cam paigns keeping time to the music by which they once marched to light for the Stars and Stripes. Thcu those meu were in the fire and flush of first youth; now they em phasize their speech with a crutch. A story is told of a man who was in court as a witness in a case nt litigation, and who was ordered by the judge to hold up his hand and be sworn, lie held up his left hand. "Hold up your right hand!" roared the judge. "I can't, your honor," said the man. "Fine him for contempt of court, nnd send him to jail until his line is paid!" "All right, your honor, but there isn't any hand to my right arm. It lies buried at Shiloh. I am a soldier!" "Itemit his fine. He needn't be sworn. Nov,( tell us what you know about thiis case," said the judge, wiping his eyes suspiciously luird. LAY HIM LOW. ;i.OSE his eyes; hi work Is done. What to him I . m i i n n y ij iiiruu ur ivtiiidiii iiiae or moon or set or sun. Hand of man or kiss of womaul Lay Ulm low, lay him low, in the clover or the snow. What cares bet He rauuot know. Lay blin low. As a man he fought hla tight. l'roved hla truth by bis endeavor. Let him aleep In solemn night, Sleep forpver and forever. Lay him low, lay bliu low. In the clover or the snow. What cures he? lie can not know. Lay hliu low. Fold him to his country' stars. It. .11 the drum and lire the volley. What to hliu are all our wars? What but destb beunxklng folly? Lay hi m low, lay bim low. In the clover or the snow. What cares he? He cannot know. Lay biiu low. Ieave blm to God's watching eye. Trust blm to the hand that made blm. Mortal love weeps Idiy by, God alone ha power to aid him. Lay him low. lay him low. In the clover or the snow. Wbat care he! He cannot know. Lfcf blm low fMl! OUR TWO OPINIONS. Of two wu boys when we fell out Nigh to the age of iT youngest uow Don't reo'lect what 'twui about Home Kill Hi I difference, I'll allow; Lived nl neighbor twenty years, A-hutln' each oilier, nie 'nil Jlui Hp bavin' hi onltirln uv hip 'Nd I bavin' in opluylu uv lilin. Grew up together 'nil wouldn't apeak. Courted sister 'ud uiarr'd ''iii, too; 'Toiiilcil name uiectln' hoime oni't a week, A liutln' curb other through 'nd through! Out when Abo Llnkern asked the West K'r aoldlera, we answered, me 'ud Jlw He havln' hi oplnyln uv inn, 'Nd I bavin' my oplnyln uv lilm. Hut down In Tennessee onp night Ther wiii sound nv llrln' fur away, 'Nil the sergeant allowed there'll lie a light Willi the Johnule Helm aome time mil' day. 'Nd a I wux thlnkln' nr LI.7.IP 'nd bome Jim Htood afore mo, long 'nd allui Hp bavin' bla lny In uv me 'Nd I bavin' uiy oplnylu uv him. Seethed llko we kniw there wux gnln' to be Serious trouble f'r me 'nd blm Un two shuck buiida, illil Jim 'ml me. Hut never u word from me or Jim! He went bla wny 'nd 1 went mine, 'Nd Into the buttle'a roar went we 1 hnvin' my oplnyln uv Jim 'Nd be but In' bla oplnyln uv me! Jim never come back from the wnr again, Hut I hain't forgot that IiikI, Ih t night When, wnltln' f'r orders, iih two men Made up 'ml aliurk liuniK afore the tl y lit ; 'Nil. after It all, It'a aoothlu' to know Tbnt here I be 'nd yonder' Jim lie bavin' hla oplnyln uv me 'Nd I bavin' my oplnyln uv bliul THE GIRL HE LEFT BEHIND. n M I N n A BA- teet was a come ly country girl, fair as a lily, up on whose fuce the roses blossomed, fter the cows came home and Joshua Buldwiu had stopped at tue Batcet man sion on his way from work at his u u c 1 e ' s farm. Joshua thought, nay, he would have made aflidavit to the fact, that he loved Ar mindn, and the seven sisters shining in the blue dome above the Batcet home could not have convinced her that she did not love J. Baldwin, a tall, dark, black-eyed, curly headed man, a regular Adonis of tlie country hamlet in which he and his sweetheart resided. They didn't have much time to waste courting, as Ar minda had to assist her mother ut making cheese, butter and cookiag for the funu hands, who were voracious caters and never seemed to have their appetites up peased, not even wheu Mrs. Bateet made a dried apple pudding with syrup enough on each dish to make it swim. Joshua also worked from fourteen to sixteen hours a day, consequently between work ing and sleeping there was little time to plague the moon in company with his lady love. And so it came to pass that they had promised to become man and wife, though the day hadn't beeu set yet, nor had the lovely Armiuda ordered her wed ding trousseau. But both thought that time would uot be fur distant. One evening wiiile Anniiidu and Joshua were sitting as usuul oil the front porch they didn't have much winter courtship, owing to the fact that old man Bateet was logging and the woodcutters slept in the sKire bed room too near tlie parlor for undisturbed love making Joshua look ed rather blue and Armiudu's face also bore a troubled expression. Joshua had enlisted aud would start late that even ing for the recruiting station. Both were feeling badly, and Armiuda was bravely trying to keep back the tcurs. But "J J Josh was goiu' to the war" and Anuin da's peut-up feelings broke forth in u reul hard crying spell. Joshua held her hand for five minutes nnd lovingly kissed her checks and went away to the war. Joshua Baldwin made a spleudid looking soldier and for two years stood the separation pretty well, but the third year of service those en velopes with a flag in the corner aud (.leu. Dix'8 famous saying, "If any man at tempts to haul down the flag, shoot him on the sjiot," inscribed beneath, did not come as often us formerly. Joshua's eyes betrayed a far away look and the boys said he was getting homesick, a fur mure dungeroas disease among soldiers than the camp fever, the doctors said. Some of his comrades suggested a fur lough, but Joshua said no, he would stay till his term of enlistment expired, aud stay he did. Finally the news of Lee's surrender came to the camp of the regiment upou the West Virginia mountains and then general orders lor mustering out troops. Joshua Baldwin's spirits seemed to re vive at the reading of these and he told his tent mate tliut at last he was going to meet Armiuda. lie had saved up enough to buy a nice little farm aud life seemed a bauJc of flowers to him. Then the regiment turned in their arms and marched to the railway station, and in two days the train's human freight of heroes slowly drew into the station aud Joshua's face seemed emblazoned with a halo of anticipation. "I'll bet Minda will be there to meet me," and as the station was reached be peered into the crowd gathered there to meet the returning troops, but be saw no Armiuda among that sea of faces. Hast ily alighting, his aged father, mother and sister rushed up to him and there was a scene that no one ever experiences but a soldier returning from the war. The first words that Joshua said were "Where's j Arminda?" I "Married three days ago to John Meri-1 thew, a fellow who worked for her father when you went to the war," said Josh ua's father. The soldier of twelve battles and twen ty skirmishes turned pale, his stalwart form quivered, and his large dark eyes filled with tears for an instant, then cours ed down bis cheeks until his poor old mother drew forth her pocket handker chief and wiped them away. "There. Josh, doa't feel bad," she said, tenderly. "There's as good fish In the sea as ever was caught out of it." and she put her trembling and half palsied old arms around his neck and her quivering lip implanted a kiss on the cheek of her sol dier boy, now, after three years' prayers and tears, safe home again. Josh walk ed slowly along after his family, following them in a listless manner to the other side of the station, where the old family horse and wagon was awaiting to carry him bome. "Uood-by. Josh; invite n to the wed ding." cried out a doaen comrade, but Josh did not return the recognition with even a look or a imile. Only a week afterward I met the old . MEMORIAL OAT. ' IF fJ mm wuSJmi ttsar I Trend softly! A hero Is sleeping below. Kneel down here beside blm, lie never will know. Which nag did he tight tori What recks It to day? They nre sleeping together, Tlie Ulueund the (irny. My nnpn oft tells me. When soft fulls the dew. Of "Somebody's Darling, A hero In blue. Who laid down his life On the red Held of Murs For the sake of the "old tin k" All studded with stars. And down where the cypress Hinds low o'er tlie way. Where the moss from the live oaks Hangs ghostly and gray, man in the city undertaking shop, and wheu I asked him if anyone was dead up iu Halltown he answered in a trem bling .voice as the tears tilled his eyes, "Josh's gone." "What ailed him?" I asked. "Dunno," replied the old gentleman; "he never spoke niore'u twict nrter be got home. Tlie lust words I hearn him say afore he died was, 'Tell Mindy to meet me nt the depot; I'm cumin' hum.' I reckon as how his heart was broke. The doctor said heart failyur wns the cause of bis belli' took off." Arminda attended the funeral. She whimpered a little when they lowered the collin in the grave, and her big, gnwky husband shook her arm rudely and said under his breath. "Dry up, this urn't noue uv your funeral." As I nenred town again I heard the old regimental band playing. "The llirl I Left Behind Mo," and I thought of poor Josh, who fought bravely all through those years and hoarded his pay to uiaUe'n home for the girl he left behind him when he went to the war, only to find her false at last. Nearly a quarter of a century has pars ed since that time, and the wild laurel and balsam grows above Joshua's grave, 'up in Halltown cemetery, while once a year, on Memorial Day, the (irand Army boys place a flag and some flowers upon the mound where lies a true and honest heart. The girl he left behind him might better have died, for only a week ago I read of her arrest in another city, charged with being drunk on the streets. Long ago she parted with her hnsbatid and entered upon a career which will probably end in the dark and turbid river. But the soldier and the girl he left behind him will never meet again. Their pnrtiug on the veranda of the old Bateet farm house was forever and aye. This story is true. Tlic nnmes nre fictitious. There nre flowers on Me morial Day for Josh and thorns for Miuda. OLD SHADY." A Pnrky Camp Minstrel Who Played Melo I'd for Grnnt nnd hertmn- Que of the attaches of the North Da kota Senate House at Bismarck is au old colored man named Blakely Durant. His war history was made under the camp sobriquets of "Blake" and "Old Shady," and the lust mentioned was given to bim on account of a song by thut title, which he often sang nt the headquarters of the Army of the Tennessee. Grant, Sherman, Mcl'herson and other generals of the Western army were entertained by the simple melodies of the musical darky, who accompanied his songs by twanging the guitar, which he handled skillfully. "Old Shndy" was the favorite piece of Gen. Grant, and he called for it whenever he spent the evening at McPherson's camp fire, where Blake was employed as a ca terer for the mess. Blnke, or "Old Shady," as he was best known, joined the army as cook for the officers of the Seventy-first Ohio regi ment and was nn the field at Shiloh. He afterward Bhipped on the steamer Mag nolia, which was used as transport for Grant's headquarters at the opening of the Vicksbnrg campaign. During that time "Old Shady" came to the notice of the commander, nnd he engaged him as cook; but. true to his vagrant nature, the darky asked for transportation home on a brief visit as a bonus and failed to report back for duty at the end of his furlough. Subsequently he fell in with the steward Who knows but nt twilight Home story Is told Of a soldier who (lied For the "Lost Cause" of old? They wero brothers, these two; In mem'ry to-day. We on ii see them again. The Hlue and the (iray. tilde by side now they sleep Beneath the green sod. The pride of two armies Until taken hy Cud. Bring out Hip wild blossoms. The darlings of .May, The budding June roH.'H. For Hlue and for (irny. Pile high the white lilies O'er each hero's breast; , Leave (iod and Ills angels To watch o'er their rest. of MeHierson's mess, was employed ns cool: for a time and then became chief caterer. "Old Shady's" song made a hit by rea son of the patronage of the generals and was Inkcn up by the Lombard brothers, who managed a band of Bingers that of-' ten entertained the soldiers in their camps during the winter season. Tlic Lombard learned the song nt McPherson's quarters. "OLD SHADY." where the colored minstrel sang it fot them over and over until they knew it by heart. Finaliv it became n nonulnx cam paign song and had its day with "Suwa- neu luver, ' Ole Virginny, "John Brown's Body" and other airs appealing to the sentiment of the hour. SiKiilllcance of the Dny. There is a melancholy pleasure in con sidering this great anniversary, second only in importance to Fourth of July, but overshadowed by a vastly different senti ment. Independence Duy is the birthday of American freedom. Memorial Day may well be called its day of baptism and consecration. On this occasion we turn from the everyday concerns of life and give ourselves up to the contemplation ol nets of heroism that raise humanity abovt the comiuuu level and link it more closely to the Divine Spirit. These heroes wbost graves we strew with flowers gave theii lives for their country, sacrificed them selves and all that they possessed that liberty and peace as established by th Constitution of the United States might be freed from the bands that bad bee thrown around them, and might flourish uutrnmmeled, unconditioned, and without reproach. Civil War Victims. According to the ofliciuls figures th Union armies lost 3,"ii),.j2S officers and mes by death; the returns from the Confed erate armies nre incomplete, but thost in the provost marshal general's report show that at least l:?H,821 officers and men lost their lives. The losses in battlt were comparatively small in the revolu tionary war. About C,(KKI persons all told were killed, and the usual proportion oi those who die of wounds is about two thirds of those killed. That would give t total of 10,XX). Then at least 11.000 prisoners died in the prison ships; so thai probably not less than 25,000 to 50,(H persons lost their lives during and owinf to the war. '