Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1897-05-29

wildwood roses. Somehow these care.
fully groomed roses in the park have
never seemed as free and fragrant.
They are too prim and precise, like spin
sters on parade. And as for the lau-
rels of praise? What are they to the
laurels which rubbed their pink cheeks
lovingly against me in the shaded ra-
vine, under the canopy of vinesp But
they make much of me here, installed
me with music and speeches, garland
me with flowers on Memorial days, laud
me to the skies. Lovers lean against me
in the summer evenings, and whisper
their dearest condolences, relying upon
my discretion, and old soldiers pat me
lovingly, and they tell of stirring scenes
i'll which l and my kind played star
parts and made the welkin ring. Near
Inc stands the soldiers monument, and
nearer still the tall staff from which
floats the glorious star spangled banner
for which l fought and fell.
II saw my young folks (have not l
the right to call them mine?) wed and
made one. They paused to greet me
on their way to the church near by, and
L saw through the open door the dear
flowers above her shapely head, and
sunbeams colored gaSly by stained
glass windows crossing her golden hair
in tinted benediction. She stopped to
pat me lovingly as she leaned on her
noble husbands arm returning home
ward, and 1 verify believe they look
upon me as sort of cast-iron shrine,
for they often come to see me and ex-
change condolences, talking to me as
to friend of the family whom they con-
slider quite one of themselves.
Zone day, about year after the we'd
ding, Inez brought a pudgy, small,
rather shapeless copy of herself to see
me, introduced us and bespoke lasting
vows of fidelity between the young
patriot and myself. He is about six
years old now, comes to see me, hand in
hand with smaller sister, and they
both sit in my lap and take liberties
with me unrebuked. He once filled me
with firecrackers on the Fourth of July
| days to overlook that prank, for the
crackers were imported Cinnamon, and
1 did not like their weak, sputtcring
travesty of real explosions. On the
! whole, however, we get along very well.
He cannot pull my hair, as he does his
fathers, nor poke his prying young fin
| gers into my eyes. AS to my mouth,
that is toothless, and barks only at
enemies of my country and flag.
HNanr hu visible onroSc oOrDar nf
the park lawn, is their home. On the
wall is a framed picture, the portrait
of the two dead soldiers, one in blue
and one in gray. Over it are crossed
peacefully the swords they wore, in
token of lasting peace as we'll as lasting
remembrance, and draped above it a
sillien flag, the beautiful flag of our
country, its stars bright, its bars typic-
al of the red blood shed for its sake.
Very lovingly it droops over the por'
traits, and its folds seem to cling as
caressingly about the man in gray as
about the man in blue. In that home
there is love and respect for the soldiers
of north and south. Peace. blessed
peace, reigns supreme.
This is the eve of Memorial day. ]
am garlanded with flowers and have
been honored as brave veteran should
be whose he served and saved. The sun
ssetting, and not far away, on the beach,
see the family group L love; the hus-
| band, Inez, the two playful children,
and in addition a sweet-faced babe in
arms. The sea is like mirror of mol
ten gold, but near the shore its surface
dimples into smiles and it lisps loving
nothings to the listening sands. Out
lined against the glorified sky, with its
wondrous panorama of crimson and
gold, pearl and amber, fleecy outlines
made of angel plumage, tall pinnacles
tipped with flame, floats proudly the
flag we love. And far away on a dis
tant hill, where rows of tombstones
CLEAN whitley, 1 see the two headstones
which point like finger-posts toward
heaven, punctuating the beauty of love
and friendship. 1t is picture of quiet
peace, the calm after the storm, the
tranquil sequel to the tempest and tur-
moil of war. Noting the headstones in
the confederate cemetery which ad-
| joins the other I see that they also
are covered with flowers, placed there
by those who decorated the grassy
couches of the sleeping boys in blue.
God rest their souls! Lord keep their
memories green!"
I. EDGAR JONES.