The Dolores star., 1902-10-31
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS..
{ AN ABIDING LOVE !:
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Martin Davis did not look much
IN his soul as he left his plow in the
furrow that afternoon in early April
and drove his tired horse up the lane.
U face was weatherbeaten, his
ba,ds rough and hard. his clothing
cheap and coarse. his high boots into
which his jean trousers were tucked,
caked with mud. He was young and
vigorous; his eyes were bright and
eager and he felt himself man to
he envied; for had he not wife wait
rc for him at the house-a bride of
few weeks? In the band of his rusty
felt hat he had slipped bunch of
yellow violets.
When she put them In teacup and
set them on the supper table, he won
dered vaguely why he had never
known before that flowers made q
room look SO cheerful. almost as II
the sun were shining. though that
luminary had sunk behind the western
hill. He did not know that the bright
ness was not of the flowers. but was
the light of love reflected from his
heart and hers.
1t was but brief time that his hap
pness lasted. That was the spring of
'6l, and the country was even then
calling upon her loyal sons. Martin
Davis turned his horses into the past
ure, left his crops for others to har-
vest, and went unhesitatingly to an.
swer the call. Oh. the heroism of the
myriads who thus went out from home
and peace and love. to the battlefield,
in those dreadful years.
Lizzie Martin Jared like the other
women-hoping and praying, living
upon the letters that came at irregu-
lar intervals. going about her tasks by
day with heavy heart, and enduring
long nights with their visions of war
and woe. That brawny private. that
longimbed. awkward farm boy. was
all the world to her. No future opened
to her vision which he did not share.
She was commonplace little
creature, narrow in thought and linn
tied in capacity. but other and greater
women have found it all of life to love
one man.
Letters cam, to her from Tennessee
nov, Martin wrote that it looked as II
some fighting would be done very soon
that would scatter the rebels and end
the war. One of them dated April 5,
anu written On a scrap of paper while
he stood in the rain with his company
awaiting orders, said there would be
lighting soon, and added:
Here's yellow violet Just found
u under bank. Seasons early down
here. Were going to beat the rebels
out OF their boots. Goodby."
This note. and then-silence. There
had been battle: it was Shiloh
bloody Shiloh. On its CORY field when
The seventh of April dawned the dead
lay by thousands-the blue and the
gray. Oh. Shiloh! the waiting hearts
that broke when your victory was
won!
Private Davis Of company d was
Numbered among the dead. A com
rsde wrote to Lizzie, telling her that
Martin had died like hero part of
his regiment had faced about and re-
treated, broken in a panic before the
Confederates' furious onslaught; but
from the hand of the fleeing color
bearer and gone on triumphantly to
meet The coming foe. In the thick of
the fight he was seen to fall, "and,"
said the writer. with no art at soften
Ing cruel truth, "he was buried in a
trench"
To the widow realizing sense of
the death did not come. 1t is often so
when those absent from home are
taken; to their families they seem still
temporarily absent and likely to re-
turn at any hour. She accepted the
situation dumbly. uncomplainingly.
She had no longer keen interest in
life and was without the strength of
character to rise above. her grief and
1orce herself to accept new interests.
sne was simply an everyday woman,
who had loved her husband and con-
tinued to love and to think of him day
and night, though he was dead. Then
she settled down in the little town and
became neighborhood drudge. She
sewed. nursed the sick, took care of
the new babies, and was at the beck
and call Of any housewife who needed
her In domestic emergencies. The
years went on with little variety. The
war ended, and affairs settled into new
grooves. A flood of prosperity swept
over the country, and affected even
hls quiet town, but made little differ
ence in Mrs. Davis plodding, unevent-
tui existence. John Holt, a thrifty
widower, attracted by her quiet, in
dustrious ways, sought her as step
mother for his children.
No, Mr.. Holt" she said, II can't be
your wife. Martin Davis is dead and
buried, but l can't make him seem
aead' nohow; never have, an don't
reckon ever can. feel as II he was
gone Jest on trip; an dream of him
ohights, an am always glad when
night comes because them dreams
come too. I'll go along by myself till
.ne time comes for me to go and meet
I..A