The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-09-01
A MEMORY PICTURE.

The wide, dusty public road led from the Lamar homestead around on the brow of the hill curved like bent bow; the narrow path which crept down the hillside by the spring of sparkling water, through the country graveyard and 90 to the broad road again was as the taut bowstring.
 Down to the clear, sand bottomed spring the path was shaded with leafy trees, scrubby oaks, naples and chest nuts bound together with many & clinging band of grape vines and clambering briars, the shading bowers fringed in springtime and summer with gay floral rick-rack of odorous white flowers and scarlet petals.
 Like tawny rent across green carpet the path led along between the trees, fringed with waving grasses, holding, tiny, friendly flowers and scrubby, sturdy wild rosebushes that oft-times leaned confidentially over the ancient, time-worn trail and dropped velvet leaves softly upon its sum- -scorched bosom.
 At the spring the path paused in 8 hesitating sort of way, as If undecided whether to stop for good in the wild thyme bed beside the sparkling, gur- gling water, but finally goes forward again, following along the brink of the brooklet, that flows from the foun- tain, unwilling as yet to part with its new found musical friend.
 A hundred yards down the valley, however, they part forever. The brook goes merrily on down fowery banks, across corn and cotton fields, losing itself at last in the turbid wa. ters of the river the path now climbs stony hillside among ragged shrub bery of underwood and sturdy oaks to the fence surrounding the grave yard, where 1t isJlost in the broad walk that the feet of mourners have made round about the city of the dead. It is a dreary, desolate place, but all that made life sweet to many lies within this rottiDg, vine- wrapped fence. Here and there white shafts rise above the tall, swaying grass, the stunted rosebushes and broken pickets enclosing moss- grown mounds. thrust ing the ghastly white falsehoods and glaring cant of stereotyped sorrow alike into the face of an offended heaven and worldly wise world who know that the borrowing" or "affec- tionate" wife, husband or child's life is giving daily convicting evidence of perjury against this marble carved grief. Here are numerous mounds without order or number, worn, like the grief of those who once mourned what lies beneath, almost surface level and forgotten. Blooming bushes and towering shrubs on others bear grati- flying witness that some hearts do not forget, that some loves laugh at coffin screws and burial sods.
 Near the foot of the stone thronged yard is low, green mound tha. seems s pleaAnt patch on the dull brown sward about it--s short, narrow grave, unmarked ave by daily renewed tokens of . mothers loving hands. The mother dwells at the old home stead on the hill beyond the sand bot toned spring, and comes daily along the sun-scorched path to pray beside the little grave and bathe its green cod with tears.
 Years ago she had tripped gsily along that path to meet the father of the little girl who died, and sleeps be- low. She was then . bright-fscod, hir-hairsd girl, and life was = fair to her = the bright sky that shone above the roe bowers among the gnyes where they offen met. Then came her merry wedding day--end theu she bS-