The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1899-05-26

the committee. The day before Decora-
ton day the congregation met A vesti-
bule ran across the front Of the church
from the side doors that opened out on to
the small stone porches, aud there the
men cast down great armfuls Of fragrant
evergreens. The little wooden soldier
monuments, painted white, were brought
into the vestibue to be trimmed. The
chatter and hustle began with the work.
Little groups formed. Busy fingers soon
lowered the heaps of pungent green. Then
often some young man and maiden would
slip out together to gather a new supply.
And were it not for others who built up
the dwindling piles of spruce, the workers
would wait long for the two who first
went. When they finally came back, he
with his conscious face hidden behind the
odorous green branches, and she, so flush
ed and shy, the merry jests were at their
expense. But, though prosecuted, the
faces of the lovers showed that it was
good to live.
Within the church, behind the pulpit on
the PLATFORM two white columns rose, out
lined with the woven greens, their sides
hung with wreaths. These were connect
ed by broader structure on which were
the words: Roll Of Our Honored Dead, ="
and in smaller black letters, in two long
columns, were the names of those soldiers
lying in the little cemeteries beside the
church. Spaces were left for the bunches
of flowers, to be added in the morning. At
the top OF each column the white statue
of an angel stood. Long ropes of green
| 1roua1 Oh tho btoh coIlarv IL, ho
rear where the choir sat and about the
side lights and windows were more grace
full loops.
As dusk fell the lads and lassies had
made their engagements for the next day,
possibly for life, and home duties were
calling the matrons. The little groups
hurried away and the church was left in
quiet. Each white pew door is closed
upon the green, well-pounded cushions on
the narrow, high-backed seats within.
The little footstools are in prim array.
The hymnals and the palm lear fans stand
neatly in the racks. The gilt pipes of the
organ in the gallery show above the rail,
and the moon-faced brass clock on the
front Of the gallery ticks in loud, meas
ured tone. The odor of the fresh-cut ever
green's is like some heavy incense. The
pulpit looms up high and dark with the
big Bible, the hymnal, and the little book
of psalms arranged upon it in a severe
pyramid. The moonlight creeps into the
quiet there, touching the names of "Our
Honored Dead" with its cold fingers, two
by two, up the long columns, till the roll
stands clear.
Through the village, as the evening
grows, the sound Of the band practicing
diligently is heard. A neighboring band
joins in the ceremonies of the next day
and the rivalry is keen. All the little
girls with long hair, at the important age
of Z are to assist in decorating the graves.
Each fond mother braids her small vestal
virgins hair in tiny strands to produce
the required crimpness. A warm, spicy
odor from pantry and kitchen in the home
where the out-of-town speaker is to be
entertained speaks for him a comfortable
inner man. One of the prominent men of
the village is to make tive-minute speech
at the monument ITO Our Unknown
Dead" He has rehearsed it for hours
in a meadow behind hay stack.
The day dawns. The dew is brushed
away by passing skirts as the women
hasten to their gardens to pick their choic-
est flowers-each culls unsparingly. Early
in the forenoon the vestibule of the church
is filed with fragrance. Flowers of the
garden, cultivated so tenderly and gath
cred so willingly, are there, and great
masses of snowballs. branches of dog
wood, with their white petals crimson
splashed, the sweet mock orange. the rosy,
towering almond all add their beauty.
The work presses; bouquets to tack on to
the little monuments, and each TO be car
ried to its place; great lunches of flow
ers to be placed in the church windows;