The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1905-05-05

Hurry! hurry" the water sail. To
morrow we will be frozen an voice
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 murmur1ng
soothingly to the peaceful dead:
1T is beautiful at all times, but spe-
cially so when snow nantes its monu-
ments and shafts and adds to the silence
and calm serenity pervading it. 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 that people who
| often wander through its paths stop 10
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"
81 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 l 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. l 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 fiuttered down, drawing
fearlessly close to her, pleased that she
had remembered them and brought the
| expected crumbs.
oil
firm turnpike road, stopped outside the
gate and it's occupants got down.
Just wait here, Dickson. Weli take
! stroll through the cemetery" the
young man said to his chauffeur.
It's not a 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 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
was of the ripe fulfillment of all their
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 shiver, 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, ecat-
tered over the slopes of the cemetery
on the hill.
The watcher arose, and with a yearn-
ing look at the name on the cross, went
silently down the path.
1T is kind of her to remember u.s."
said the dove, pecking hastily at the
last remaining crumbs.
''How pretty her flowers look. He will
never be forgotten, at least by her. l
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 a senti-
mel. After awhile. she will not come
any more. Then there will be another
cross.
Come, let us CO." The doves flew off
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 solituds set
tied over the majestic home of the dead.
N O. Times Democrat