OCR Text |
Show - lir H E great war had been . j over a few years and in B fi soft gloaming of May tho jV fairest wreaths that the bright fields yield fell CY-i ' ")) annuallv unon hero graves. 0l:MA in the calleya of Virginia IIF lne marks of .lhat telllble kwFyVI strife remained, for the Sfl&im, scars of battle are hard to twJY obliterate, and the roses (KyooKWU of peace th0Ugh they grow over the cannon ruts, are now and then blown aside, showing the work of the crimson demon. The home of the Morrows was one of simplicity, though set among hills which had reverberated to the booming boom-ing of the great guns, and the nearby near-by river sang its song of peace as it fought the sea. By lucky accident the little home and its surroundings had escaped the ravages of war. Hester Morrow stood upon the old vine-embowered porch and looked out "You have a hero, then?" "Yes, one who sleeps apart from nla comrades." "The Gray fought bravely, Miss " "But my lone hero is not of tho Gray, though, as you tee, I am southern south-ern and I honor the gray-clad braves. WcHild you like to see where my hero sleeps?" "Only too well would I look upon the grave of your Bayard," was the reply. "I am here on what I fear is a hopeless mission. My father " "Was a soldier? We meet a good many people whose relatives were In the war. I had relatives who wore the Gray." "No doubt of that, miss." "Come with me," and Hester Morrow Mor-row led the way across the grove to the historic stream. The tall young man at her side stole glances of silent admiration at -his companion as they paced along. She was as fresh and lovely as the flowers she had Just gathered; her voice breathed song, and In her blue eyes was a light he had seldom seen. At last the girl paused and turned toward her companion. "This is my M-ecca on Memorial day," she said, as she slipped the fragrant wreath from her arm. "Here sleeps the northern soldier guarding In death, as I tell my friends, the river he guarded so well in life." At the feet of the couple so strangely strange-ly met was the lone mound. The young stranger approached the grave and stopped at Its head aa he once more looked at Hester. "Something thrills me as I have not been thrilled for years," he whispered softly. "By the way, miss, you have not told me the name of the one who camps here. Or Is he one of the unknown?" un-known?" "No, he is not unknown. His comrades com-rades carved his name on the headboard. head-board. You have but to part the grass to read the name and regiment of the sleeper." The young man knelt reverently while Hester, stooping, placed her wreath on the mound. Suddenly there came from the stranger's lips a cry that startled the young girl. When she looked up she perceived that he had sprung erect and was pressing his hands to his forehead as if he would keep In leash his wildly throbbing temp'es. "What is it?" cried Hester. "Did you know " "Found at last!" was the response. "For years I have sought this spot, going hither and thither throughout the south, always looking for a soldier's sol-dier's head-board that bore the name-of name-of John Dunham of the th Massachusetts. Mas-sachusetts. At last my task is ended, and I can now go back to the old home and tell .mother where father sleeps." "Your father?", cried Hester Morrow. Mor-row. "Do you mean to tell me " "This soldier was my father. J His comrades came home, but he did not. I '-WWM I (MM f I Aft Looked Out Upon a Scene of Exquisite Exquis-ite Loveliness. upon a scene of exquisite loveliness. Everywhere the last month of spring had garbed the landscape In matchless match-less beauty. Of course she remembered remem-bered the war. While she stood there she recalled how one day a regiment of Union soldiers was hard pressed and how stubbornly they held their ground around the house; how the brave went down before the missiles of battle, and how in her young girlhood girl-hood she had tried to staunch the life-tide life-tide of a soldier wounded to his death. In a little while the girl, who had turned back into the house, came forth modestly dressed and with a smile on her Hps. A few minutes later she might have been seen running hither and thither with the sprightliness of young maidenhood maid-enhood gathering flowers of many hues which grew In profusion where she sought them. Hester had often despol'ed the woods of their treasures. Each Memorial Me-morial day she had stolen forth to gather flowers where they never failed to bloom. These she formed into a rich wreath, and when she had finished finish-ed it she repaired to a certain spot on the river's bank under the spreading spread-ing boughs of a stately tree and placed her offering to valor on a lone grave there. John Dunham that was the name carved on the wooden head-board was a soldier of the Union. He had marched to battle with high hopes, but fate had decreed that he should never return with his messmates. Of his family. If he had one, the girl knew nothing. "Mother thinks," smiled Hester, is she worked at her wreath, "that I ought to marry Jack. But a girl should choose for herself, and, while lack is a clever fel'.ow, I haven't seen snough of the world to 'settle down,' xs Aunt Mary says. I would like to know what sort of world lies beyond the river over yonder; the boys in blue came from that part of the country coun-try and, as yet, It is an unknown world to me." She had scarcely finished her wreath when she looked up and beheld be-held a young man coming through the grove toward the rippling river. "Jack!" cried Hester. "No, it is not lack. He is a trifle too tall for him. Perhaps he Is one of the strangers who have come to town to keep the Jay." She had already been perceived; .he stranger wa-3 coming toward her ".nj, as half a dozen flowers fluttered o the ground at her feet, she caught his eye and bowed. "You will pardon me, miss," said the young man, as he halted before :he surprised girl, and cavalierly removed re-moved his hat. "This is my first visit o this part of the country. I concluded con-cluded to take a little stroll before the services begin, and " "It Is a beautiful morning and augurs aug-urs well for a pretty day," gently Interrupted In-terrupted Hester. "I, too, have strolled out here, but I do so every year after flowers or my hero." Beheld a Young Man Coming Through the Grove. And you for years have placed a wreath on his grave! You have gathered gath-ered the treasures of wood and field and, loving this man, although he may have crossed swords with your people, peo-ple, you have crowned him beside the river that sings to the sea. Let me thank you, miss, not only for myself, but for my mother. She would more than thank you If she were here." He held out his hands to Hester and Bhe placed hers in them, and for a moment they stood over the wreath by the river, looking into each other's eyes and feeling In their natures a thrill they had never felt before. At that moment there came from the village the clear notes of the chimes, mingled with the shrill, almost al-most warlike call of the resonant bugle, and when Harold Dunham and Hester Morrow walked from that solitary soli-tary grave they doubtless realized that the currents of their lives must con mingle; and almost before the wreath by the river had lost its fragrance the memories of that one Memorial day had been strengthened at the altar. |