The daily morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1883-1899, 1895-06-06
THE GRAVE OF BLAINE.
(Minat Halstead.)

sf ~ I.I.iaf
(Minat Halstead.)
The Blaine house was a place of un-
happy traditions and memories bafore
Blaine was attached to 1t, and in his
time It was a social and political centre
second to none-the scene OF pleasant re-
ceptions and charming hospitaIity-the
home Of a LOVING family, serene though
there were storms abroad. The old house
admirably appointed-was unique, am>
pie. Who shall ever forget the glow
ing firesides, the mellow lamps, the
glittering, generous table, the gracious
company, the gentle daughters, the de-
voted wife; the white head, so rever-
enced, that was the centre of the circle,
the dark and glowing eyes whose steady
and yet flashing brilliance denied the
story Of the pale cheek to the last? The
walls were luminous with engraWngs, ex-
quisite in art and rich in history. There
were tempting books on the tables-the
simple beautiful testimony on all sidss
of refinement, enlightenment and hu.
man interest-of the presence of "a hear
tnat was full of charity, the brain of a
statesman, the hand that was worthy
the sword of chivalry and that wrote
magnanimous history. The attraction
was confessed even by enmtty, and ami
mostly resented the fascination 1t could
not deny, and assailed the magnetic
quality that was the expression of a
masterful genius of leadership, justify
ing an ambition for whose failure there
ds compensation in the public affection
that place and power could not win,
that calumny could not abate, nor mis-
fortune cloud or the grave obscure.
/ drove out on Sunday-Easter-t Oak
Hill cemetery, thinking of talk with
Blaine in his carriage on the road. II
was wonderful to see how far advanced
the season is on the Potomac, how the
young leaves were glistening, how vivid
and velvety the grass was, all spotted
with dandelions, shining like golden but,
tons. In the trees of the cemetery, an
irregular tract of steep, wooded hills and
terraces, there flashed white and RED
blossoms, masses and sprays Of bloom.
There is multitude of tombs. many OF
them elegant and old, and walks that
are smooth but steep. 1t is rare, indeed,
that there Is a more benign and lovely
resting place Of the dead.
The grave of Blaine Is IL few PAGES
from sharp descent to a deep, narrow
valley, the forther side of which shows
the red soil so characteristic of Mary
land and Virginia, and the outlook is ap-
propriately the northeast. The mos,
conspicuous object on the Blaine lot
which is level and green and fenceless
Is the memorial cross erected b. Col
Coppinger to his wife, the eldest daugh-
ter of the Blaines. Next her grave is
that Of Walker Blaine, whose great abil-
ity would have had more conspicuous
recognition If his fathers distinction had
been less remarkable. Then comes a
n In 10 with fhA
hickory tree a foot in diameter with
broken top. 1t was marred I should
think, by a tempest-possibly by stroke
of lightening-and upon rounded foot
stone, six inches above the turf stone
white as newly fallen snow, are the in>
itals that all men knew, that millions
shouted-the initial letters that the fam.
Gus name that was a battle cry that rang
across the sentiment with a passion none
otter inspired-the letters that, rising
from the snowy marble, seem yet
strangely endowed with life, have a
keen significance in their severe sim.
plicity, ~ G. B." On the threA graves
were strewn radient lilies of Bermuda,
and touching the low footstone, their
sprays shading the initials carved in en-,
during snow, were exquisite ferns.
On the opposing slope of the valley
woods, from whose boughs a pearly
radience seemed just to have burst ana
to linger. On the hither side were droop-
ing cherry trees, along whose slender
limbs, trailing like weeping willows, wer
lines of delicate red flowers. On the
side, under the dogwoods, the sun
shone bright and warm on a marvellous
steep bank of violets, thousands OF
blue eyes, and the hum of the honey
bees swarm,ng there was low and
drowsy, but distinct like the murmur
of waters. The buds of the hickory
tree that marks the grave were just
opening, the bursting pods showing their
pale puple and dull gold in the sunlight.
Mrs. Blaine had been there, and with
the fair lilies and the ferns of maiden's
the graves OF her husband and children.
In one of the rare but profound pas
sages of pa.hos in the writings of Hor-
ace Greely, he relates that he, when
Henry Clay was defeated for the presl-
dency for the last time, took up ana
drank cup of water, saying: Here is
to thee, Harry of the West" Why that
came into my mind as 1 moved away
from the grave of Blaine-one greater
and brighter ard more mlligned ana
cheated andw ronged than Clay-walkInS
through the sunny air under the
young leaves, listening to the bees in the
violets. on the day of all days of im'
mortality, l shall not try to tell, for
there are a few who know, and for those
who do not, do not care. NJ. H.