The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1892-04-21

VEKHWIyVy~0 uiS CilC dlI tdIl-
'fTtT glble to the
senses, was the breath of flowers, pro-
claiming life and its perennial resurrec-
ton.
Flowers, flowers; gray moss and cy-
press.
Life, life: death, death.
Eternity.
Peace and prosperity smiled ON the
land; union and brotherhood
Up in the face of the blue sky an old
oak Haunted his pennons of gray moss
gray and blue.
Out on the rim of Lake Pontchartrain
a low cloud gathered and broke-blue
and gray.
Down close to the grass woven sod of
Metairie cemetery woman's blue skirts
f1uttered across the knees of gray uni
form-blue and gray. The skirts We're
silken, lace edged and sweet with a
faint scent that was not of southern
flowers, They bothered the man.
He was old; gray were his beard, his
eyes, his hair. But his figure was ma
jestic. His black slouch hat drooped,
increased, low crowned and round
brimmed over his face. Only his mouth
and chin were visible, and they were
very sad and stern, despite the softening
effect of the beard. This much the
woman saw, and something i'll them
made her long to see the rest of the face
But he continued to look upon the
ground. He was one Of the Confederate
veterans, who were standing in some
what broken file around a monument to
which they were then doing honor. He
had taken his sword from its scabbard
and stuck the point Of it in the ground,
making an unsteady staff upon which to
rest his folded hands. The old blade
was rusty; the damp earth would not
hurt it; its days of usefulness, like its
masters, were over.
1t was mldafternOOn and the ceremO-
nies were in full blast. The cemetery was
crowded to suffocation. The wind had
risen, and the woman could not help
her skirts blowing across his knees.
"Clash!' went the presentation of
arms.
Boom! boom! boom! roared the salute
of three guns, and volleys of gray smoke
rolled off on blue sky. Then there
were priestly tones praying: Heavenly
father-comrades = honor - memory of
brothers who sleep-flowers and prayers
messengers of love to thy mercy seat
Christ Jesus, Amen"
These were the drifts of the prayer as
the old soldier heard it. The blanks
were filled in with the roulades of mock
ing birds; the chatter of children on the
outskirts of the crowd, and the champ
ing and stamping Of horses at the gates.
Then the procession began to move. II
was long, and kept with difficulty its
line of march through the pushing
crowd.
Fans and parasols fiuttered and ban
ners got entangled.
In the midst of it, said sweet young
voice at the old soldiers elbow:
Pardon me-my skirt, sir, is caught
by your sword"
He started, lifted the old blade, looked
and removed his hat, murmuring words
of apology.
"Felice!" he gasped and staggered
back.
what is it, colonel?" some one asked
Colonel Beaumont has fainted!'
Strong arms We're under him; the
crowd fell back and the soft wind came
in, tanning and kissing the pallid, rug
ged cheeks 4 woman sprinkled the
water from IA florists wreath in his face
and the gray wing of a passing clouC
fingered between it and the hot sun
But he was slow to revive
-comrades-home," he said.
They bore him to the entrance, where
his carriage and servant waited.
The bands played on. and their dirges
seemed to the stricken man dirges fol
the dying, not the dead; the dead were
at peace. The sky was all gray to him
gray like his hair and his heart. Yet
the vision-+hat face-tiat voice! They
were young, unchanged; that was TWEEN
ty-seven years ago. Was it dream
the hallucination of an Overheated o.
suddenly disordered brain? He lifted
the sword weakly, as he lay back i'll hi
servants arms and the carriage rolled
along the smooth, white shell road Will
its shady copse on the right. There wa
Jagged bit of blue silk forced upward
above the point.
The old pain came back in his hear
and a mist before his eyes. Out Of tha
mist came wOmans voice, saying
Pardon me; my skirt Is caught b.
your sword
They were the casual words of today
but the voice and the face were of tn
far off yesterday.
The shutters were closed in his room
at the st. Charles hotel and his physician
sat by his bed The house and street
We're very quiet.
HE will sleep now," the physician
said, after having given him a whit
powder
But he did not sleep. His body ma
have slept, but the mind leaped with
newborn vigor back to the past, an
was living and loving and hating as
had not for many and many veal
Living the life of a young, impasslone
southern boy; loving the love of stron
mans youth; looking into the brow
ewes of a maiden, demanding and re
ceiving her troth It'll tho war is over.
They were standing on the veranda c
! one of those old entre-sol houses dow
in Frenchtown. 1t was another Apr
day-a dag like this-a day made fo
lovers. Roses leaned down and brushe
his hair and shoulders, great pal1
spread its green fronds between the1
and the street, a mockinS bird poure
t,n hn c,~I