Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1892-05-26

like tender sob pulsating gently to the
place Of the dead.
Only a few black robed women and
little group of old soldiers-this one
minus an arm and that one leaning
heavily on his worn crutch-remained in
the little graveyard, and soon they, too,
departed, leaving only two persons-a
bent old mother in distant corner, and
a tall, stately woman, standing, as II
waiting in the deep shade OF gloomy
pine.
1t was the most peaceful, the most
neglected, the most lovely spot on earth.
Nearly every stone had flag or a sword
cut in it's face, and each name bore az
ter it the Twelfth - Volunteers.
At first the most solicitous care had
kept the mounds smooth and the paths
open, but time had gone by and now
each grave had sunk to a hollow trench,
down whose sloping sides the long grass
trailed and across which the stained
marble slaps had long ego broken; the
vines, once planted by tender hands,
had reached caressingly out and bound
all in impartial embrace; flowers forgot
where they had stood originally, and
tall trees looked out upon the once
young shrubs now bidding fair to rival
the old ones.
This evening each narrow grave bore
a tiny flag and its load Of sweet bios
SONS; men, long since forgotten at all
other times, were hunted out and honored
on this one day of the year by offerings
from the hearts and the hands OF their
old comrades; q sweet odor OF fading
flowers filed the warm air, and soft
golden afterglow tinged the tips OF the
pines and q gentle breeze waved the
little flags standing loyal and true even
In their humble places.
When all had left excepting the Sob
bing mother in the farthest corner, the
tall woman stepped out and quickly
picked her way over the thick-leaved
plants and tangled vines to q long grave
at the foot of the hill. Here, also, was
an air Of the absence OF human care, and
yet 1t seemed happier and truer in lite
transition back to nature. 1t was only
a part of the harmony OF the place fol-
its stone to be lost under a large, way
ward rose-bush; a closely cut sward
would have been q cruel discord.
The woman slowly knelt, laid aside
the little black bonnet as IL to let the
slowly stirring air cool her hot forehead
and reverently bent her lips to the grass
above the head. The last rays Of the
sun stole softly up and fell tenderly on
her face and lighted 1t, showing eyes
beautifully sad and patient, mouth
wonderfully sweet, and a low, fair fore
head, from which were brushed bach
wave upon wave Of soft snowy hair
White hair will soften and hallow any
face, but here It seemed q crown, halo
for one as pure and lovely as a saint
But even its silver did not deceive one
there was a certain youth, in spite Of
the look OF suffering, that kept one from
Judging her as old-a youth. borrowed
perhaps, from the past in which she al
ways lived, IL one might guess by the
pleading, dreaming eyes.
From the country, stretching away be-
hind her, came the far-of lowing of cat
tie and from the town the strains of tina
same dirge, faint but yet filed with
sense Of awful pain. She put her hands
over her ears and still knelt, while he
face grew paler, and the shadows OF thu
pines near by cast their black cloaki
about her; the silence, the loneliness, thu
sentiment OF the place, overpowered hel
and she started to her feet. But, recov
ering again, she took from baske
great, loose, creamy roses and heapeC
them about the tiny cotton flag anC
seemed to ponder till a big tear slowl.
rolled down each cheek and q sob con
vulsed her shapely shoulders. She threw
herself on her knees again, with her fac
In her hands, while the sun sunk ant
the solemn, almost weird, music throD
bed softly but clearly about her.