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.
'