The Fairmont West Virginian. (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1904-1914, 1905-06-14
THE STORY rs PATHETIC WHEN
READ IN coLoRlNe OF SOUTH.
ERIN SETTING. 55::s,

2
old pathetic story Of Memorial Day.
How much more pathetic IT Is when
read amid the colorlng Of the Southern
setting. r.,
There is something about the blarc
of tho trumpet and the lnspiriting
color Of the flag that suhdues and
fires men. When the fife blows you
Involuntary straishten up and your
foot begins to keep time with the
fierce notes. nv S$3 s.
Twenty years ago twas the last
of May In Knoxville, charming old
Tennessee city. Blue uniforms were
lodging up and down along tho
streets, for Knoxville had many a re-.
cruit In the Union army. Bands were
playing the dirges familiarSin that
section when Longstreet and Burn.
side were playing hide and seek up
and down the valley. Children with
baskets OF flowers and white dresses
came, out Of the houses and ran hero
and there over the lawns. Men with
red sashes rode horses that pranced
and danced down Gay street unable to
accountifor the uncommon hustle,
They were getting ready for the me-.
mortal services at the Federal Gem.
etery on the outskirts Of the city.S ~
Nearly four thousand soldier dead
lie there In the silent city, the sward
above them kept scrupulously clean
and decorous by a grateful govern.
ment. i;;53..
The procession had formed and l
stood near the market house watching
the movement. A tall thin citizen,
his sandy hair streaked with the pre-,
liminary white that announces the
approach Of life's autumn came Ut
beside me. Together In silence VIC
watched the procession, for a thing
OF that sort excies a train Of though,
1 that does not encourage overmuct
talk. He was almost as interesting tc
me as the spectacle which we stood
to behold. for he was an old rebel sol
der, and the emotions that were agl
tating him probably the people who
were on our side Of the great conflict
will never comprehend. He was 70
d u . = q
rebel soldier, a gentleman and one Of
the most loyal friends I ever had.
When the last file Of the procession
had passed down Cumberland street
and turned toward the cemetery, he
touched me on the shoulder.
Come on, Yank.", e.
4Where?g | asked. !
Lets go out and see IT, "
With my rebel frlend-the man who
had fought through four years Of wal
with the men whose memory was nov
honored-I followed the procession
down the street and out the dust,
limestone pike to the magnihcen
( grove wherein the everlasting blvouat
had been spread for four thousand
heroes who had died for men.
The war songs were sung, Thu
speeches were said, the flowers were
scattered the bands played the deaf
marches, and then the assembled null
titude melted away. .,I
Yank, it's mighty little a gratefu
nation can do for the man who ha,
staked the whole thing, and on tn,
!, throw has been taken to "a higher tri
bunal. But ! like to see done wha
is done. You can't say too much 70
: the chap who .5is
Holds tho nozzle agin the bank
i TIL the last galoot's ashore
But few attentions like this shoy
: that he has been appreciated. /
doesn't help the fellows who are here
butit helps the fellows that are liyin,
! and the little chaps that are GROWN,
up
A y = y Il,
3 We lloitered about under the shad,
Of tic oak trees reading the inscrip
tions on the monuments, which her,
: and there contrast with the ilittle slab.
marked Unknown and then, as Thu
/ sun was creeping under the branches
q we set out for the city. Il;
j 4 "Here, Yank,n said the rebel sol
der, as we came to the outskirts. 81
: the North Side, "let us 90 across the
corner and miss the DUST
We dropped into the valley and
across the creek. Then We climbed
1 the hill on the other side. and reached
Mabry street. The shadows were
frightening. The HolstonS river
: wound around the city like al line. on
one side was visible Fort Saunders
where the embankments stlllsstood5to
mark the site of one OF the bloodiest
and 4; most desperate charges ii Il Tie
j history of the nation: Across the IN.