Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1883-08-12
THE LONE GRAVE.
Romantic Story Drawn From Real
Life.
A BIighted Maiden, the Victim Of Unrequited
Love, Pines and Dies and Her
Lonely Grave Gives Back Un-
certain Sounds.

u was NAcANAhk y s.O
collie village of Bethany, which nsstles
amid the hills sixteen miles to the north
east Of here. Its q lovely spot, except in
winter, for there nature has touched to
beauty q scene that holds every element of
attr action. The hills have a holder crest
and grander slope and the emerald Of the
valleys is a richer green than elsewhere.
The russell plumage Of the ripening corn
waves in gentler breezes and the sun kisses,
with a sweeter caress, the soft cheeks that
nave gained richness and r0undness in an
atmosphere purer and more buoyant than l
have ever known. There, at Bethany, in
these somnolent August days, came a
stranger from the city, q young man who
had turned from duty at a desk to find rest
aud relaxation in this Sleepy Hollow Of
the Pan Handle. In common with others,
he heard
THE STORY or II LONE GRAVE
and it fired his ardent Imagination. There
are several versions of the story, some
commonplace, some romantic. He was
Young: youth is filled with romance; he
accepted the romantic story. On the sum-
NIT of one of the highest hills that stretch
away from the old homestead OF the late
Bishop Campbell, a half sunken cross
marks a small mound-a grave. The sum
mer sun has caressed and the fierce winter
wind has howled about the lone spot, but
the coDey now disports in the branches
above it and young lovers make their
stated pilgrimages to this, tle last resting
place OF one who died for love. Years ago
a handsome stranger came up from the
sunny Southland and fingered about
the neighborhood Of Bethany, whispering
in his soft tongue, sweet nothlngs 10 4
native maiden and wooing her with chances
OF his midnight tropical eyes unui, When
he was sumIAoned home, She lived put ior
his return and waited for "a coming that
she never should see. The winter SHOWS
had been melted from their trysting place
by the warm breath of the next summer,
but he had not come, and like the maiden
by the fountain, she lost her hopes at last
and withered like a flower that is waiting
for the rain. She pinned away and died and
they made her a grave in the spot endeareo
TO her by the memories OF the sacred love
OF the past. The romance went into tradl
ton, until the original story was almost
shrouded up and lost in the legendSwhlch
grew out of it. But when, under favorable
conditions, the pious lover visits the grave
and asks what its occupant died OF, a yoice
replies nothing.
The story came to the ears OF the city
youth, who, as a
PIoUs yOTIFE OFFERING To LOVE,
projected a pilgrimage to the grave. j.
had heard of the young lovers OF France
laying flowers on the graves oil Aoelard
and Heloise and, inspired by the same sen
.:-.a-. lAar-ntnal 20 nlor1 his garland nm
this lonely resting place n hear the sep
ulchral voice, hollow even in its sweetness
say it's owner died of nothing. But first h,
| said to a friend: This story, while beauti
full and romantic, is tinged with improoa
bility. l will 60 to a sweet lady l know
here, who is the shrine of truth. The
sun of her life is declining and is mellow
ing her years with crimson and gold. Ii
she vouches for the story | will 60 He
went to her and she reported the legend.
But when / ask the question will n
voice respond nothingY' ne enquired.
"A voice VIII surely answer nothing
she replied.
So he went. He gathered a garland o.
flowers and started on his mission. The
conditions were all fulfilled. 1t was a star
lit night, in the dark of the summer moon
and he had so timed himself as to arrive al
the grove at midnight. The stiffness OF the
night and the eerie look of the solemn trees
| oppressed his spirit, as he climbed the bill,
and he would fain have turned back, bat
that he knew his pilgrimsge was known
and to abandon it nov would be to subject
himself to the charge of timidity. So he
dressed on until he reached the small clear
irg and saw the old cross greet him, indis
IinCtlv, in the faint starlight. The scene
was impressive in the highest degree. The
trees stood about him like spectres and
4 SOLEMN STIFFNESS
peryaded the air. Far away to the right
he could see the college dimly out
lined against the sky, while beneath il
slept the hamlet of bethany, where not q
light kept the night vigil. Whispering
courage 10 himself he deposited the flow
ers beneath the leaning cross and retired
tie required ten PAGES backward. Then
in a voice which scarcely was audible, bui
which seemed very thunder tones to hi
excited imagination, be faltered out
of what did YOU die?' =,
The plaintiye cry OF the w~hip-Door.wil
/ came like an echo, then a stiffness as OF
death succeeded. A chill struck 70 tho
heart OF the romantic youth. bat he dis
! PEELED it with the courage OF desperation
Perhaps his voice was too low, or perhap'
the question should be repeated. Then, in
a louder but even more faltering accent
of what did you die"
The quiet was appalling until broken by
the swapping twigs and rustling leaves a
the city youth hurried down the hilis:d'
and sped along the road to his room. |
the clearer light which then dawned on hi
muggy faculties, he saw it all. The lon,
grave had answered nothing. And so to tn
end Of time, when the yenturesome pii
grim shall climb to the narrow abode o
the heart broken maiden and PROFOUND tn
! old question, the lone grave. will answe
nothing. Not a word.
The city youth has returned and know
mitch better now. In the language o.
Mark Twain. uthat Infatuated ass VA