The L'Anse sentinel., 1905-04-29

hofioW VIC Will oe iioAch anu 'oASe-
less"
The river loved the home OF the ever
increasing departed. and loved to see
white crosses and shafts multiply on
the hillside. The bright, shallow stream
took pride and pleasure in singing its
never-ending song, and in murmuring
soothingly to the peaceful dead:
1T is beautiful at all times, but spe-
cially so when snow mantles its monu-
ments and shafts and adds to the silence
and calm serenity pervading 1t. See
how the golden sunbeams light up and
glorify the restful tombs and intensity
the white mantle enwrapping them.
Yes, indeed. We dearly love the pretty
cemetery. We are always singing its
praises, and we notice at'people who
often wander through its paths stop to
listen to our song and turn away well
pleased.
''The solitary watcher, who comes SO
frequently, loves our music. We know
that. She sits on stone bench, near
where a new cross stands, facing the
west, and on which shafts OF sunlight
CLEAN golden-red like bright smile
just before the sun sinks behind the
mountains"
Il hope she will come this evening,
said the dove, anxiously. 1T is kind OF
her to bring us crumbs. | am not at all
afraid of her. She sits so long and so
till on that bench | sometimes forget
she is here. She is very unhappy. The
misses him sorely. The minister's words
about meeting him again, and OF joy
and life eternal, should comfort her. All,
there she comes. am glad"
The doves flew from the crumbling
slab above Justin Cameron and went
restlessly to and fro, anxious to see
whether the pale-faced visitor had re-
membered them.
Placing fresh violets and moist fern
leaves on the snow, she stood silently
and long looking at the white cross, on
which the glow of sunlight fingered.
1t represented the extinguishment of a
life of power and activity, one rich with
affections.
THE resurrection and the life" she
murmured.
Moving away, she sank on the stone
bench close by, and took up her lonely
vigil and loving communing.
The doves fluttered down, drawing
fearlessly close to her. pleased that she
had remembered them and brought the
expected crumbs.
An automobile, speeding along the
firm turnpike road, stopped outside the
gate and its occupants got down.
Just wait here, Dickson. Well take
stroll through the cemetery" the
young man said to his chauffeur.
Its not bit cold" said the hand
some girl, whose face was rosy with
the rush of the wintry air and whose
brown eyes were bright and smiling.
What a lovely place! How wonder
fully PEACEFUL" she exclaimed, inhaling
the breath of bunch of violets pinned
on her sable muff, while pausing to look
up at the terraced height before they
began to take their stroll.
They were both young and handsome.
and life evidently was thing of JOY to
them.
Care-free and favorites OF fortune,
viewing the rosy present, as merely a
prelude to happier years, their talk
glowing hopes, as they sauntered slow
ly along.
The majestic peace prevailing around
enhanced by the white carpeting OF
snow. the stiffness. so suggestive OF
restfulness, soothed by the eternal song
of the river, added to the solemn beauty
of the home of the silent dead.
How lonely and unhappy she looks,
the young woman said, with shiyer, as
they passed near the bench where the
watcher sat. How good life is to us.
How exquisite!"
Her companion drew her furs closely
around her, and bending down, MUIR
INJURED loving words which made her
face glow.
They passed on, the gate clicked be-
hind them, and faint, gay laugh was
waited on the air as the automobile
whirled away.
The glow of sunlight faded. The
gray twilight crept up and intensified
the fair whiteness of the tombs, scat
tered over the slopes of the cemetery
on the hill.
The watcher arose, and with yearn-
ing look at the name on the cross, went
silently down the path.
1T is kind of her to remember us,
said the dove, pecking hastily at the
last remaining crumbs.
How pretty her flowers look He will
never be forgotten, at least by her.
hope she believes what the minister said
about the resurrection and the life. 1t
will make her less sorrowful.
IL am glad we live close by. The cross
seems to KEEP watch over us like senti-
mel. After awhile she will not come
any more. Then there will be another
cross.
Come .,let us CO." The doves flew or
and perched comfortably under the shell
ter of the crumbling granite, which
still preserved the memory of Justin
Cameron's) hope for the forgiveness OF
his many grievous SINS"
Night fell and complete solitude set
tied over the majestic home of the dead
IN. O. Times Democrat.
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