The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1891-09-09

from the band, was faint in the distance,
the slight, girlish figure would linger,
and over the graves which contained
her loved ones would pray to the God
of battles for strength TO abide in sub
mission the fat of his will, even though
its iron hand had entered her soul.
The spot and the twilight had be.
come 10 me so associated with her and
her sorrow, as l sat and watched her
white fingers deity twining the vines
over the headstonts, or pulling weeds
from the grassy walks, that any inter-
ruption seemed almost an intrusion.
The slanting rays of the sunset were
casting long shadows from the maple
trees, and marking broad shafts of red
through the dust which filed the air,
when across the ray which fell in
broad space between the two trees be-
hind me came a shadow. L turned in
some surprise and saw before me
young man in whom recognized one
of the Northern guests.
Can you tell me, my little man."
he said, resting his hand on my shout
der, "who that lady is?"
That is Miss Mary" answered,
but she must not be spoken to now"
"And why?" he asked.
Because she is alone with her
dead" l replied, for she used to say
those words to me when | would want
to help her work "No, DEAR" she
would say, /" it is my own work, and |
would rather be left alone with my
dead"
AT this, with look of sadness and
pity on his face, he stepped softly past
me and walked across the lawn to where
she was sitting, with the soft light of
the setting sun touching her golden
hair and Illuminating her sweet, fair
face.
She did not see him until he spoke to
her, and then, with quick glance, she
half rose, but sank down again and
bowed her head.
could hear him speaking rapidly as
be bent over her, but she only held her
head against the railing and would not
look up. | saw him take her hand, and &,
raising her up, look into her face. Then
she broke down, and, resting her head
on his shoulder, cried as if her heart
would break.
And as he stood with his arm around
her, sadly, somehow / felt as if all was
well; so / went down to them and softly
touched her hand.
At my touch she raised her head from
his shoulder, and oh, such a sweet smile
she gave me. Then turning TO him,
she said:
This is my little sweetheart, Paul.
Are you jealous?"
He laughed, and we all walked home
| ha hot ho boil
ing one hand and l the other.
The wedding was held at the old
home place, and all the school was in
vited. In her plain white dress she
looked as pure and unsullied as a
flower, and never had | seen her face
so beautiful. The traces of the years
of care were there, but the contrast
only heightened the effect.
And after the ceremony was over,
and she had told us all good bye, she
bent over and kissed me, saying, with
tears in her eyes, But love you best,
my little knight, and will remember
you always"
But this was all many years ago, and
| love to hear of her, more matronly
now, and bearing on her face the SYM
! P'thOtlS AouOuCo VI itlOlhCl iONCs 40
she moves in the world which sur
rounds her, and making it brighter to
those across whose pathway her life
lines have fallen.
The graves on the slope are still
green in the spring, and every Memo
rial day, as the years run on their
course, when the crowd, which is less
reverent and more noisy now than of
old, has celebrated the day with speeches
and salvos of guns, and has followed
the band back to the city of the living,
now city indeed, love to watch the
same hands, still deft and nimble, train
the vines uo the shaft which has sup
planted the small headstones. The set
ting sun still falls with its alchemic
light on her hair, now streaked with
gray, as she prays to the same God who
sustained her through her years of sor-
row to bring her at last with her loved
ones to the same goal of all her earthly
hopes, whittier the spirits of those over
whose graves she bends her head have
preceded her.
And by her side, as she bends hei
head in prayer, stands one who BE- airs
her name, and on whose face her old
expression rests. In that resemblance
lies for me the realization of one, al
least, of my chidhood's sweetest
dreams.-Mor HalJar in Exchange.