Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1908-06-04
THE NAMELESS GRAVE.

sary than 10 Ine Nol'n' o"iHs "
difference of latitude and climate, too,
it is observed, in most of the States,
earlier in the spring. Ia Georgia 1t
is observed on April Goth, instead OF
May 30th.
In the North the holiday arose from
the patriotic exertions of General Lo-
gan but in the South the observance
of the day was originally due to the
personal efforts of Mrs. Williams, of
Columbus, Georgia, and began earlier
With us, however, little effort or
persuasion was required to initiate the
holiday. In many of our small towns
and villages the custom OF bearing
flowers to the graves of our dead SOL
diers began spontaneously.
l remember that in the first years
after the war we were accustomed on
that day to drive to the cemetery In
our old family carry-all, loaded with
wreaths of cedar and glossy magnolia
leaves, made on long, plant willow
branches piled, too, with sprays Of
dogwood and bushels of wild purple
pansies and dog-tooth violets from the
valley of the 0ostanaula, and crab
apple and peach-blossoms from the
fields:
The old carryall was an arbor OF
fragrance, all its old ribs and worn
wheels hidden in pink and white BIOS
SONS.
Yet however heavily We went load
ed to the cemetery, we never had
flowers enough for all the graves,
there were so many of them. Al
WAYS there would be found one more
grave, in some far corner, still bare OF
floral tributes; and my father, him.
aelf a lame veteran of Lees army,
would call to US to fetch another arm
full. If we said there were no more,
he always bade us divide those on the
other graves and make up what SEEM
ed an equal "honor" for the neglected
one.
There was one grave, however,
not in the cemetery, but down under
the magholias by the fence, in the ex-
treme corner of our grounds at Spring.
bank,-which for many years no one
of US even dreamed of decorating with
flowers.
In truth, we children never went
near the spot. Only in low, awed
tones or whispers did we ever speak
of lt-"the Yankees grave !" For in
all thoss sad old days, after Sherman's
devastating march through Georgia,
the name Yankee was to us something
far more terrible than that of Indian
it was the synonym for desolation and
grief.
In my own childish thoughts, too,
the word was even more dreadful.
On the day before the battle at
Woodlands, four miles from Spring
bank, a troop of Northern cavalry
had halted at our place to water their
horses, and several troopers came into
the house. My mother put us chill
dren in the parlor and hastily locked
the door; but the windows stood open
wide, and with childish curiosity l
had toddled forward and stood under
the high sash, watching the horses.
One of the cavalrymen crossed the
piazza, and before I could run away,
he caught me up and kissed me To
this day seem to hear his words,
"You little dear You are the very
image of MY little sister RosyI"
For years sfterward, whenever my
brothers OF younger sister Josephine
wished especially to huuiliate or
plague me, they would point the fin
ger of scorn and cry, "a Yankee
kissed you A Yankee kissed you |"
1t may possibly have been the same
young trooper, although that is un-
likely, whom, after the skirmish and
battle across the fields, cur old house
servant, Uncle Joe, found near the
fence down by the magnOliss, shot
through the lungs, mortally wounded
and unconscious.
As I was but three at the time, l
retain, of course, but a confused rec
ollection of the fight, the shouting and
yelling outside, the burning barns, the
wful sounds of the firing and the
well.nigh frantic fears of my mother
for our safety.
Kelly's brigade of Mississippians