The Progress. [volume] (White Earth, Minn.) 1886-1889, 1888-06-23

" ZVlol0Hu anu unreasonable pre1udlCeS,
and when the war broke out, his wrath
against the Southern people was so vindic-
tive and harsh that he could see no good in
them collectively or individually, and he
was eagerly ready to give up his only and
we'll beloved son to go and fight the hated
rebels, since he himself was physically
incapacitated from doing so at the time,
and the son went out from his native town
at the head of his company, followed by the
benediction of his father, and with the
echo OF his parting words in his ear: ssLick
'em, boy. Thrash 'em out of their boots for
me, since can not go myself" A much
more characteristic leave-taking than a
more sentimental one would have been
The young man rode away with a share
OF his fathers vindictive spirit infused
into his own gentler nature, but as the war
progressed he saw so many touches of
kindred nature among the people he had
come to conquer that he came to pity. as
we'll as blame, and eliminated his soft
-heartedness by falling desperately in love
with the fair and gentle girl who afterward
became his wife and the mother of his
children.
He had found her in an old mansion
which the Union forces had taken possess
sion OF, caring for an invalid mother, and
covering and trembling with fear, with no
one beside to protect her but an old negro
nanny and her decrepit husband, and his
chivalric heart went out to her at once as
ne treasured and Gained her fears, and
made the invasion as pleasant as possible
under the circumstances. The troops were
quartered in the vicinity for fortnight.
and, when they were ordered on, Holroyd
Graham carried the heart of the fair
Southern girl away with him and left his
own in her keeping.
The fathers wrath may be imagined
when, upon his sons return from the war,
SCARED from honorable service, he learned
that he was determined to make the penni-
less Southern girl his wife; but the son had
his share of his fathers firmness, and, after
a fierce quarrel, they parted, the son leav-
ing wealth and home for the sake of her
whom he loved.
The breach had never been healed. and
Holroyd Graham, after ten years of happy
married life, died lingering and painful
death, in consequence of injuries received
during his army life leaving his heart
broken wife with Grace, mere child, and
the twins, helpless infants, upon her hands
to rear and educate
The widows pension which fortunately
was liberal one, suficed with the little
which they had accumulated to keep actual
want from the door, and the delicate hands,
which had never been brought up to labor,
performed many an unwonted task for pay,
and she had managed to struggle along un-
til the children were able to assist her in
small ways; but the memory of her soldier
husband was ever kept green in her loyal
heart, and, though she had received advan-
tageous offers, she had refused them all
for his sake.
She had only written once to the grand
father OF her children, telling him when
and where his son was buried, and opening
the way for reconciliation if ha wishaa Il.
put he did not reply, and Grace, too, Under
the pressure of actual need when she saw
her beloved mother failing under her bur-
dens, had ventured little pleading letter.
which also went out upon it's way, but
brought no response.
< X = Y = X
1t was evening, and the lamps cast soft
glow over the elegant room which was
fitted up for library in luxurious home
many miles from the widow and her chill
dren. One side was filled with valuable
collection of choice books, the other was
devoted to rare specimens of art in paint
ing and sculpture, while in corner niche
stood grand piano, bearing mute testi-
mony to the fact that the room had echoed
to music in other days.
The owner of all this luxury sat by a cen
ter table, his face buried in his hands, and
his eyes fixed upon letter which Law be-
fore him, accompanied by picture upon
which he looked with moistened eyes. 1t
was the widows letter, and Holroyd Ora
ham looked upon it as one in dream. ssAll
alone. All alone,'' he said aloud, at last,
land he whom Irelied upon as a staff for
my declining years is buried far away from
me, and I have never ever seen the spot
where he lies, or the faces of those whom
he loved most"
He looked sadly about him. Gail this
wealth and luxury is as empty husks to
me in my loneliness, and would give it all
for one look into the honest blue eyes of
my boy, one grasp of his warm hand, but I
have nothing but his distant grave which
other hands than mine will decorate on
Memorial Day; others will honor the brave
boy whom sent out from my heart and
home for his countrys salxe''
An. indescribable longing came into his
heart to see for himself the spot where his
son lay, if no more, and tonight, in his
softened mood, there was no hardness in
his heart toward the widow and the father
SAAAASA VI 4
town where the widow Graham lived, so it
was not a large or imposing procession
which filed away to the cemetery on Me-
mortal Day. 1t had been patriotic town,
as the number of little flags flying above
the graves testified.
1t was always sad day for the widow,
and to-day she shed bitter tears as the mar
tlal music announced that the procession
had started for the cemetery
These sounds always smote upon her ear
like a knell, reminding her of the dreadful
war times, when father, brother and loved
ones were every day adding their names to
the roll-call of regiment and companies at
the recruiting Offices. True, she had been
more fortunate than many, being more
nearly alone in the world, but even She had
seen beloved father brought home
to die, and an invalid mother fade away
like shadow under the affection, and the
life and drum had weird, dark memoryin
its notes for her which time could never
efface.
The flowers were lavishly scattered, the
salutes were fired and the main body of the
procession slowly filed out of the cemetery
gates, but still the twins fingered by the
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