Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1891-10-02
THE LITTLE TEACHER.

! remember her so we'll, rs she looked
the first day entered the school-the pale
face, made still paler by the black mourn
ing which she wore, the lines of care which
sorrow had wrought, and the expression
of firmness which seemed to linger about
her mouth.
Among all the sorrows left by war in
that desolate little town hers was the sad
dest. AT home | had heard her story. The
old home in which she lived, alone with
her mother, had been one of gayety and
wealth. The only sister of three older
brothers, she was the pet of a household
which for miles around was noted for its
hospitality.
Among the many visitors who were al
ways welcome in the house was Paul Bran
don, one of her brothers college friends.
Coming at first to see her brothers, he
had found greater charm, and subse-
quent visits We're made by love under the
cloak of friendship. Where there were SO
many eyes, the disguise was soon perceived,
and long before Paul had even admitted to
himself that he came more to see Mary
than her brothers, the little maiden had
been mercilessly teased by the whole fam
lily. But though they leased, Paul had no
lack of silent encouragement, and one day
when he left for his distant home, he left
as the avowed lover of Mary Martin.
When the betrothal had been made pub
lie, and after several more protracted Wis
its to the Martin home had been made by
Paul, day was set for the wedding. In
the meantime more potent spells had been
at work than this little everyday tale OF
romance, and before the time for the we'd
ding came round, a line of bayonets bristled
between the two homes, the Martin boys
had marched to the front, and Paul had
enlisted with the enemy.
There was no direct break between them,
but when her youngest brother was
brought home from the first great battle,
dead, with his company's flag wrapped
around his body and the joy for the great
victory was gloomed by death, in sisters
anguish she felt that her lover was more
than an enemy, and he could but accept in
silence the letter which came to him
through the lines from the home where
he had been ever welcome-written by the
bier of his dearest friend. And after the
letter was sent, Mary sat down and cried
her eyes almost out-but never wavered
from what she had written.
So four long years passed. Once, in bat
tie, Paul and Arthur Martin met, hand to
hand. And the comrades of neither ever
understood why they fiinched and turned
pale that once in all their fighting. 1t was
in breastwork attack, and by an instant,
but tacit consent, they sprang back and
turned in opposite directions.
When all was over and the remnants
came marching home, there were three
green graves in the old cemetery, and three
soldier brothers lay sleeping side by side.
And before the winter had passed, the
father joined his boys, and Mary and her
mother were alone.
1t was then that letter came from the
north asking if Paul might come. He
pleaded earnestly; but with her sorrow
fresh in her memory she felt that she could
not give her hand across those graves, and
no answer ever went.
1t is then that first remember her, as
she would go by in her daily walk to and
from her school. She had begun the bat
tie for life bravely and had opened school,
and those who had known her in better
days admired her brave little heart, and
her school was soon full
1t was with all the enthusiasm of boy
of eight years that loved her, and on her
L
her constant companion. The entrance to
the confederate burying grounds was I'M
der large arch, over which ran a profu
sion of vines, and across the arch in bold
letters was the legend ''Tread Softly Der
day set apart for Memorial Day, the
grounds were strewn with all the blossoms
that the season gave as to the muffled notes
fl1x 10 Jot1
of the little town came to the foot of the
tall shaft which crowned the highest knoll
to commemorate the fallen dead.
After her mother, her heart lay in those
graves. No hand but hers ever kept out
the encroaching weeds from that lot, and
in the spring, when the cedars and pines
took on q greener hue and the trailing
vines with renewed freshness ran rank'and
wild over the headstones and tombs
that lot was the greenest, and the
sod which grew there was the freshest and
softest to be seen in all the rolling space of
the soldiers graves.
To help her in this work, to carry her
flowers and bring her water from the well
to sprinkle the grass and shrubs, was to
me a work of love- Late in the evening
we would stay. Then, when the long sum-
mer day would begin to close around the
horizon with its dusky gray, would watch
her as she gathered up her wrap and little
basket of tools, and as ! would look at the
soft girlish face, so chastened and subdusd,
but SO beautiful withal, with the lines of
grief merged into the peace of divine sub
mission to her Fathers will, as We would
walk silently back through the cemetery
between the overgrown grasses OF neglected
lots, would put my hand in hers, and it
seemed as if were walking with spirit
among spirits.
In the spring of 1868 the memorial serv-
ices had been unusually solemn and elab-
crate. On this occasion Q northern gen
since the war a true friend 10 the
south, had been invited to attend and
speak in memory of those whose valor hs
had before taken occasion to eulogizs.
With him came few friends The party
had arrived at noon and proceeded directly
to the cemetery, where in speaking and
other services the day had been far spent.
When the sun was almost set and all the
great crowd were well on their way hons,
I walked quietly down the path to Miss
Mary's LOT, well knowing that there I
would find the quiet little figure OF my
teacher. She was absorbed in her thoughts
and did not hear my step, SO took my
seat on marble railing to wait until size
was ready to go home.
To me the saddest pilgrimage of all the
day was that to those three graves; for
there, after every one else was gone, and
wnen the sound of the dirge from
the band was faint in the distance, the
slight girlish figure would liinger, and over
the graves which contained hep loved ones
would pray to the God of battles fol
strength to abide in submission the fat OF
His will, even though its iron had entered
her soul.
The spot and the twilight had become to
me so associated with her and her SORROW
as | sat and watched her white fingers
deity twining the vines over the head
stones, or pulling weeds from the grassy
walks, that any Interruption seemed al
most 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 filled the air, when across
the ray which fell in broad space between
the two trees behind me came Il shadow.
turned in some surprise and saw before me
a Young man in whom | recognized one Of
the northern guests.
Scan you tell me, my little man." be
said. resting his hand on my shoulder;