Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1894-06-09
JIM'S GRAVE.
A TRUE STORY OF DECORATION DAY.

! were hustled, stores and offices clos
ed, and the busy working world at
rest and freedom. This was Gods
day-the day of His dead; Americas
day-the day of her heroes; the un-
ions day-and The day of her de-
tenders; yea, Dixie's day-and the
day of her martyrs. For did they
not all suffer and die alike, according
to conviction? Was the young life
of rebel worth less TO his land-and
his mother-than that of his brother
or cousin who lived north of Mason
and Dixon's line, and wore blue
uniform instead of a gray one? Were
they not "fed with the same food,
hurt with the same weapons, subject
to the same diseases, healed by the
same means, warmed and cooled by
the same summer and winter!" And
was it not high time, as we'll as
beau iful reassortment OF humanity,
that all such separateness ofinterests
were forgotten, and the ugly scar of
its former existence covered up with
flowers.
It was late in the afternoon. The
great city was almost deserted, for
its responsive millions had flowed
forth to the silent, pleading cemc-
teries, laden with blossoms for the
sleepers; heart's-ease and forget-me-
nots. The ceremonies were over.
and the murmuring, surging tide
turned homeward. In front, the
Grand Army ofthe Republic bristled
and lowered, with ribbons and med
ais on uniformed breasts; the Presi-
dent of these United-yes, united
States, with cabinet officers in guber-
material splendor; the governor and
his staff, scarcely less magnificent;
Scared veterans, gray-haired and
trcmulous, buoyed up almost to
youth by fife and drum and marshal
ed pageautry; military companies,
rank and file, knapsack, canteen, rifle
and accoutred belt, with dusty feet
and flushed, tired faces, surface signs
of the inward significance of war,
discipline, duty, muster, and forced
marches; mayor, council and alder
men, in staid municipal dignity;
mounted police force; distinguished
citizens; casual lockers on in public
cab, chatting and laughing, forget.
ting that Decoration Day means
aught but flowers and holiday; and
then the people-eager, pushing,
crowding, tanning; the mob and
raoble, striving, perspiring, toward
street car and open highway.
OFF from the line of march, upon
the dusty roadside, was an old wo-
man crying. Her dress was shabby,
hands bare and toil-hardened, her
teeth gone, her thin, gray hair dis
ordered. Tears Of to-day ran down
the beaten track of many yesterdays.
And so she sat and wept, while the
great people marched, bands played,
| gayly comparisoned horses pranced,
and the rabble shrieked and pushed.
A child looked from q carriage
window; a pink-cheeked, well-dress-
ed girl of 9 or 10 years Of age.
There was none in the carriage ex-
cept herself and amiddle-aged nurse
woman. Higher up the little face
rose over the wheels, a hutter oil
yellow curls, blue ribbons and broad
hat brim, and imperiously above the
noise of men and wheels a shrill,
sweet childish voice called, "Stopl'
She must have been a spoiled child,
for the solemn driver obeyed in
stantly. The nurse demonstrated.
but the big hat bobbed up and down
determinedly, and two eager little
hands gesticnlated toward the old
woman. The carriage turned out Of
the road, and a bundle Of white
skirts, black hose, blue ribbons and
yellow curls futtered over and
around the old woman.
"What makes you cry"
"They didn't put no posies OF
Jim's grave" the cracked, pathetic
voice answered.
"Who's Jim?"
"My Jim"
"Was he q soldier?"
Eyes. / knowed it warn't fur NJ
good" by this time crowd baf
gathered around the speakers
"when he listed, says / oh, Jeems
don't gol they'll only put you por'
boys in front fur the rebels TO shoe
at Thar's plenty more soldiers il
York. You're all I got; don't go
Jimmie But he would go. He hat
got buttons and stripes in his eye
an of he put, almos' fore / coult
git his clothes fixed. An / neve
seen him no more! He got killed j
the fust battle he fit, an now the.
don't think enough Nv him TO put n
posies on his grave" with renewe
sobbing.
The child stood like an ayengin
goddess, her head thrown up, look
ing at the approaching column.
where's his grave" she asked
tears on her checks which started
pity and rolled of in righteous il
dignation.
aTtfc off a HIT fo itsalf y