The Ekalaka eagle. [volume] (Ekalaka, Mont.) 1909-1920, 1911-08-04

|%~M scars OF DAtCle are HdIu "
M6X/N obliterate, and the roses
~ of Peace. though they grow
over the cannon ruts, are now ana
hen blown aside. showing the work
If the crimson demon.
The home of the Morrows was one
If simplicity, though set among hills
which had re~verberated to the BOOM
rg of the great guns. and the near
~ river sang it's song of peace as it
,ouDnt the sea. BY lucky accident the
title home and it's surroundings had
escaped the ravages Of war.
Hester Morrow stood upon the old
,ine-embowered porch and looked out
lpon a scene Of exquisite loneliness.
Everywhere the last month of spring
aad CARRIED the landscape in match
ess beauty. OF course she remem
oered the war. While she stood there
she recalled how n day a regiment
If Union soldiers was hard pressed
and how %stubbornly they held their
ground around the house: how the
rave went down before the missiles
If battle, and how in her young girl
aood she had tried to staunch the life
.ide of a soldier wounded to his
Heath.
In a little while the girl, who had
turned back into the house, came
smile on her lips.
A few minutes later she might have
oeen seen running hither and thither
with the sprightliness OF young maid
anhood gathering flowers OF many
lues which grew in p~rofusion where
she sought them.
Hester had often despoiled the
woods of their treasures. Each Me
mortal day she had stolen forth to
gather flowers where they W. failed
to bloom. These she formed into a
rich wreath, and when she had finish
I'd it she repaired to a certain spot
on the rivers bank under the spread
placed her Offering to valor on a lone
grave there.
And what was the silent sleeper tC
her? Nothing in a certain sense, onl!
she knew that his comrades nae
buried him where he could guard the
singing river forevermore.
John Dunham-that was the name
carved on the wooden ~head-bOard-
was a soldier of the Union. He hat
marched to battle with high hopes
but fate had decreed that he SHOULD
never return with his messmates. o
his family, if he had one, the cir
knew nothing.
Hester hat day locked like an ar
gel of light and love. Fitting ever!
where, her hands full Of scented bios
SONS. she would have charmed an
painter; but no one was neal enoug
to transform the living picture to hi
canvas.
She had scarcely finished ne
wreath when she looked up and b.
held a young man coming through tn
: grove toward the ripping river.
"Jack,' cried Hester. mo, it is nc
e Jack. He is a trifle too tall for hin
y 'erhaps he is one of the stranger
e who have come to town to keep tn
o day
Sle uau dllSauS pSSA lNi'Ni CN
the range was coming toward he
u and. as half a dozen flowers 1uttere
N to the ground at her feet, she caugl
IL his eye and bowed.
IN You will pardon me, miss sa
e. the young man, as he halted befo'
ne the surprised girl, and cavalierly r
Is moved his hat. This is my first Vis
~ to his part Of the country. | co
bo cluded to take a little stroll befo
err the services begin, and
ar 1T is a beautiful morning and al
If urs we'll for a pretty day gently
tIe terrupted Hester. Il, too, ha
re strolled out here, but | do so eve
ty year after flowers for my hero
n You lave a hero, then?'
rc' Yes, one who sleeps apart from
no comrades"
The Gray fought bravely, Miss
=. But my lone hero is not of t
,ov Gray, though, as O see, l am sou
an. ern and | honor the %gray-clad brav
Ish Would you like to see where my ne
all sleeps?'
nut Only too we'll would l look uI
the grave of your Bayard.' was
no reply. Il am here or what l Tear
nd a hopeless mission. My father
els WAS a soldier? We meet a e
many people whose relatives were
la. the war. | had relatives who W
L the Gray"