Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1873-07-18
Gales aud Sketehes.
MEMORIAL DAY IN BRAyDfvILLE.
Bf MRS. II. G. ROWE.
lcoNrISUED FROM YESTERDAY. i,

CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY.
They haven't failed me-see! I uey-
er saw so many flowers bloom at this sea-
son before. Why here are half dozen
sprays of 'Solomon's Seal, and never
used to look for that before the middle of
June
And she held up, with little air of tri-
umph, handful of the dainty white bells,
50 lair and bright that even their royal
namesake, in all his glory might have en-
Wed them, in their spotless array.
Mrs. Blossom laughed. while she shifted
appreclatlvely at her friends fragrant har-
vest.
You must go flower hunting every
morning for a fortnight" she said with a
significant look at the animated face be-
side her, you look five years Younger
than you were last night. and if you keep
OH
''lf like crab yon can 90 backward.
quoted her husband, merrilv, and in the
midst of their playful badinage, Esther
sat down to the first real home breakfast
that she had eaten for years.
How pleasant and inspiring WAS the
cheerful chat that accompanied the meal.
with no dread of unsympathizing or cold.
/ ly curious eyes and ears to check the ex.
preston of thought or fancy even the
little ones, with their bright morning ia.
ces, and innocent prattle added their mite
to the universal atmosphere of cheerful
contentment and unaffected cordiality that
made the simple, home cooked meal of fat
things to the world worn woman who
shared it,
as people, we certainly are not given
to making much of our National holidays.
Even the once popular Independence
Day" that our grandfathers observed with
such patriotic enthusiasm has, of late,
Glow be it spoken) become rather nui.
sance than otherwise, a day devoted BY
the Juveniles TO the firing off of fire crack
ers and old blunderbusses, while their eld-
ers shake distracted heads, and thank their
stars that Fourth of July comes but once
year"
But there is one day that New England
never fails to observe with tender, reyer-
entail interest, the day appointed for the
decoration of the soldiers graves, who
died in the late struggle Cor freedom and
unity.
In pretentious city cemeteries, in the
village burying ground, in the lonely
country graveyard they lie mute. voice
less, yet eloquent with grand and holy
memories, not alone of the pale sleeper,
beneath, but of the great and noble cause
for which they fought and died-not
thank God! in vain; for, as we lay upon
the grassy atars our fowery offerings we
think with glad hearts of nobler, richer
tribute proffered to-day, by grateful thou
sands throughout the length and breadth
OF our land-the thank-offering of freed
people.
When the thrilling call "to arms rang
out upon our startled ears, summoning
our truest and noblest to their country's
defence, Brandtville was one of the first
to stretch forth military hands in answer
to the appeal; and Of the gallant little
company that marched forth SO hopefully,
how many a father, husband, and son new
hearts at home, let the long list of names
upon that soldiers monument in the
Brandtville burying- ground testify.
knowing this, who can wonder that"me.
mortal day" is to the dwellers in that vi
cinity, a day never overlooked or forgotten
by young or old.
How many hard handed, rough faced
farmer. as he lays aside the all engrossing
toll that has by use become almost neces-
sity to him, and harnesses the old fash
ioned horse into the older fashioned wag-
on, to carry the women folks to the cele-
bration, finds the tears stealing down his
rugged cheeks as he thinks of the strong
young arms and faithful heart upon which
his own failing strength had 50 proudly
leaned, now lying idle and pulseless be-
meath the sod; nor does he look askance
at the homely nosegay of lilacs and peo-
nies that the auld wife carries so tenderly
in her trembling hand: "He used ter think
they was SO pretty, when he was little
fellow" she says apologetically, and her
husband silently mods his approval
He has called them "weeds, "a hundred
times, perhaps, declared it was q waste of
time and space to cultivate them, but to-
day, Frightening the sod upon his dead
boys grave they have acquired a new
dignity in his eyes, and he silently Won
ders that he never noticed their beauty
before.
Pale, sad looking women dropping
wearily beneath the tolls and cares of their
now unshared lot; bright-eyed children
whose young hearts have already felt the
meaning of that saddest of sad words.
/ tatherless; friendly, earnest. sympathi-
zing faces from far and near, each with its
4 tribute of bright hued blossoms. sweet
breathed, frail. yet precious reminders OF
the loved and lost-all come thronging
to the cemetery. on this day of all others.
to share in the ceremonies with which
national gratitude no less than private
affection keeps alive the memory of those
who died that nation might live.
And amid the crowd, Esther Brandt
with her sadly changed face and humble
dress, stood unnoticed and unrecognized,
stranger in the home OF her fathers. with
not one kindly. familiar voice to bic her
welcome. 1t was what she had expected,
and yet, disown it as she might even to
her own heart, there was a secret pang of
mingled with the loneli-
ness, that made her shrink away before
the ceremonies were concluded, and with
a sad wonderment at the number of the
now thick lying graves about her, made
her way toward another and older part of
the graveyard, where, with its once hand
some but now time stained monument
inclosed by ragged, untrimmed cedar
hedge. the unchecked growth Of years,
lay the grassy plot that she had SO bitterly
characterized as her possession"