The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1875-07-14
NOT FORGOTTEN.
BY ELLEN TRACY ALDEN.

1t was Decoration Day. From the
long procession which slowly moved
through the cemetery, scattering flow
cry tributes here and there, two little
lads turned away as if in search of
something. s
He was wounded at Gettysburg"
exclaimed one of them to the other;
'.and his mother is poor and widow
so sister said, and that [ must try
and find his grave and put my flowers
there"
Late in the day, after the throng
gathered to witness the pageant has
dispersed, a slight, STOPPING figure,
clad and veiled in black, is seen to
pass feebly through the streets.
Naughty danes aud airy demoiselles
turn neither to right nor left for it,
but brush rudely by, because the black
dress and shawl and bonnet are all SO
worn and rusty and old fashioned
looking, and because the hand that
carries some English daisies is glove
less, and because they are scarcely the
ladies they seem to suppose. But the
rusty black veil hides the face of a
lady, and under the shabby shs;wl
beats the heart Of heroine
By and by this heroine gets into a
street car. Nobody rises to make
room for her-neither the big fat boy
by the door, nor the young man with
| the newspaper, nor the tall man with
the moustache.
| i've got a comfortable place, and
| m going to keep it, mutters the fat
boy to himself.
| I'm not going to give up my sea I
| to every old woman that comes along,
! CALAMITY resolves the young man be-
| hind his newspaper. =
"Old women had better stay al
home where they belong, and not 60
poking about in street cars and both
ering people," reverently decides the
tall man with the moustache.
La, it's only an old woman, thinks
the pretty girl in plaid, coolly looking
"And 1 gave him up for the sake Of
auch as thesel" sadly muses. this same
.'old woman" as they are pleased to
call her. standing there in the jolting
car. He died for such as theseP
she means aloud, as she enters at the
cemetery gate and takes her wayalong
the winding gravel walk.
He died for euch as these! All
were they worthy the sacrifce-hel
country and its ungreatful people,
Oh! why did she not keep him tha
morning years ago, when he wen
away with the flush on his brav,
young face and the wonderful light il
his eyes, when she, mindful of tn,
Spartan mothers who bade their SON
20 fight for their country. did not sa.
he must stay? She is half ashamed o
her patriotism, now. Oh! why dit
she let him go. only to come back a
last and lay his weary head in her lal
and die?
Aud who cares, who remembers
They do not tell the children of tn,
terrible war, nor Of the deeds of som,
+ of its heroes; the grown up peopl,
have almost forgotten, needless o
how they came by the peace and safet.
they enjoy. And he sleeps here il
the cemetery-her Guy; and though
they come once a year to scatter bios
SONS around. who ever remembers,
him. who ever took the trouble to fint
out where he lies? He was not gen
eral like that one whose lofty monu
ment CLEANS among the pines yonder
wreathed to its very top with bloom
Thus she muses. bitterly all tn,
winding way. But when she reaches
a grassy mound in a far corner of tn,
| cemetery. and sees the slender head
stone garlanded with ivy, and tn,
green turf all strewn with white rose
and blue for -get-me not and lily o
the valley AMI purple heliotrope. tn
bitter thoughts quickly vanish. tear
stream from the sad eyes sa long tear
less, and she lays her wet face agains
the me-breathing blossoms ant
sobs. 20 my darling, my darlingl the,
have remembered you after all!''
| In the lingering twilight the lionel,
woman passes once more along tn,
streets-unfrequented streets thi
time, lest meeting with people ma.
bring back the troubled thoughts
She doesn't want them to come back
Neither will she try the crowded car,
| again. She walks on and on, slowl,
as before, recalling how once, whei
che was thus belated. her Guy fre
from his days work. came up benin,
her quietly and put his arm about he
and asked, Are you tired mother?