The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1894-11-27

The Strangers Grave Mt Aliasnona
FassS%An Eioquent Tribute 10 His

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FasssfAn 7iioQuent Tribute 10 lila
Memory.
Almost every one who has travelled
along the Western and Atlantic Rail
road since the war has seen tho louely
grave at tho entrances Of the historic
pass at Allatoona. GAG right alongside
OF the railroad track. It Is the grave
OF an unknown soldier, who was buried
by his comrades in this romantic spot.
where a fierce conflict was waged be-
tween the Federals and Confederates
during Sherman's march towards At
lanta. No one knows 10 which army
the soldier belonged, and this fact
gives q peculiar interest to his resting
place, Soon after the war a headstone
was erected by the railroad authori-
ties, and the Inscription briefly told
the story OF his burialgas an unknown
and unidentified soldier. a recent
number of the Atlanta Constitution
has the following In reference to this
incident.
"It's an old story--a story pretty
much worn, like tho sands Of the sea-
shore, by constant and continuous toss
ing.-but q story, nevertheless, that
will never sgrOW oldAa story, which.
like the pebbles on the shore, is bright
ened by the corrosive polish from the
AAhO Va linlCs 49, q r6t0r tOIbu0 UT6bby
rarrative that tells of the unknown
soldier buried by the railroad track In
Allatoona pass.p
1t was Major ]. i. McCullom, super
intendent of the Western Atlantic
Railroad, who said this.
ut would probably amuse you,n ne
went on, g to observe what interest is
felt in that soldiers grave, even in
these piping times of peace, when the
bugle-blast is hushed and warriors are
at rest. / never go up the road that L
do not see one or more passengers ON
the train go to the side of the car to
look down upon the fellow there asleep.
1t is particularly interesting at this
period OF the year to watch the North
ern visitors who are travelling down
from the cold country around the lakes
on their way to Florida-how they all
know about the grave OF the unknown
hero and how they all lean far out of
the car to see the grave. j don't sup
pose thereis ever q single passenger
train that passes Allatoona with
out somebody looking out to see the
Egrave.
cit all serves to show that even in
these late days of American develop
| ment-these dgys OF strife. after tie,
almighty dollar-these days when
America has grown light-hearted, so
they say, and all that sort Of thing-it
oAly shows that even amid such condi-
ttons the spark Of patriotism sti.; burns
Ia every American heart and huroism
is still at a premium. L love to see
such traditions kept up. / am glad
that h grave, III kept green, that the
railroad company has seen fit to enclose
it with an iron railing, which was re-
Gently done, and that flowers are
strewn on the little mound of clay
every memorial day. Let his memory
live!m
Speaking of this unknown soldiers
grave there have been mary pretty
literary tributes to the brave youth
who lies at the threshold of the his
of him, and the SIX sch artist has paid
him pretty tribute. One Of the daint-
lest little sketches ever written about
the tradition was from the pen of the
editor of the Old Marietta Journal. If
1t had been printed without credit in
the days of the late Henry w. Grady,
people would vow the distinguished
Grady wrote IL, so much like his word
pictures is the sketch in question.
Here is an extract from the sketch:
"Hewas some mothers darling, and
pernapS Wnont ne cruel war was over,
she wiped her tear bedimmed eyes and
through her spectacles watched for the
coming of her soldier boy, but he came
not. Still she prayed and gazed down
the road and scanned the face Of every
passer-by ; every footstep that sounded
on the walk hen. eager ears caught up
with expectancy; her heart beat faster
and thrilled with hope; her eyes
kindled with joy; her wrinkled face
lighted up with q smile, and her Old
arms, no doubt, involuntarily went out
to clasp to her bosom her darling boy
but she was doomed to disappointment;
it was her neighbours boy who had re-
turned, and not hers and sadly she
turned back to her old arm chair by
the window, she cboked down the
heart sobs and cleared away the unbid-
den tears and wondered why her boy
did NJ ONE. No tidings came of his
whereabouts. She did not know that
the boy whom she saw proudly leave
homo in his new suit of gray in re-
spouse to his country's call, at that
moment filed an unknown grave. Per-
haps, after many years of waiting, she,
too, has gone over the river Of death,
and, with her boy, will be a shadowy
witness of the erection of the head
stone to the memory of AN Unknown
Hero.'"