Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 June 1893 — TOLD AT THE GRAVE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TOLD AT THE GRAVE.

A STORY FOR MEMOFJAL7 DAY. LCopyrikht, 18C3, fry American Press Association.]

T THE base of a mountain spur i n ~ northern ArNwjAvyVf . kansas is a grave. There is an air of subdued romance. A the place, v-'jßi A an indescribable something that Wgßfi breathes a., hallowed sadness. Wwlf TO* The country is of o#reA--..-y old but thin ' i*SsO** ; ' sstHenient. Up yw / narrow valleys the ferns are rank, and on the hillsides befiowered vines cling , to the rugged

trees. The grave is under a willow that shades an open space. It is the only •willow in the neighborhood." Once every year since the war a man and a woman have-come from the north to decorate this lone grave. At first the woman, bright eyed and springy of step, was exceedingly handsome, but latterly time had ceased to be playful with her. The man was sturdy and of sober mien. He looked as if his life' had. always held a secret suffe®gr~TKlsmafr"and this woman have rather a unique history. At the time of the breaking out of tho war John and Henry Archer, brothers so nearly' alike that they were often taken for twins, lived in Lake county, Ills. John was engaged to marry Tress Pryor, and the day for the Wedding was appointed, but before the time came a drum beat, and sturdy young fellows mustered on the grass. It was evening, and Tress Pryor was standing on the veranda. John rode up, sprang off his horse and with a new accent in his manner—a peculiar bearing—came up the walk. “Tress,” ho said, “did you see the men marching?” “Yes.” “Do you know what it means?” “They say it means war,” she answered. “It means more than that, Tress. It means that you are to marry a hero.” “I don’t know that I understand you.” Ho laughed. “Are you so dull, little sweetheart? It means that I am going to the war.” “If means nothing of tho sort,” some one exclaimed, and John, wheeling his brother Henry standing near. *‘\Vb it’s the trouble with you, Henry?” A “Tie re’s to trouble with me. lam and you must not be foolish.” Hr pointed to the girl. “There is your presi nt duty. lam going to the war. You are going to stay here, and aft' v ;i while if we need you I will send for you." _ “ Wf-lt. now, this is a pretty come off,” John ' dared. "You would make a yov’-self nnfl n drudge of me. Ton 'ar U -Jit engaged to be married and

are therefore a patriot. lam in love and am consequently n Tress, you needn’t say a vrori lam going to the ...siarA.__._-„Y—- --‘ I haven’t said anything/’ ths girl rc- . l’ l -"''- ' 1 “Croat?, ami it means that yon give ■ - Tour ecfesent/’ -■ •■ .■ “It m.esns-th’TtrTOujiinst do what you your 1 ‘DU.-Uftt,.l SAQuldnlMoworihy of you, — — W-— 7, “Lv.t wi.T'.o'. - .': common sense bravely is but r,n siml'ss.. piece' cf foolishness, Cr.o ,Eol<.'ie?_, frcci. .ettr •: •" i 1 f.".mily, I tboujcl is en_ough f'-> thin,:-“-Tcuf-j-, yen httffciV.<£vT.wcr<r. "Tlffl to th« i Thb n'czt diy• J•'■'.’.n were ’ ?rsd into. fe»-E3i”rico,.and '-ifr-wag.. net long befora they v.\7b kinder “fisev C"-a dayrin a. .£hirinirii_..noi..f?.r-. fricu ■ FsyettoviiiorAi'kKfJohii tris standing umler a willy; tr Ee was ■ so severely tvojnided thet it was thought • he cohld-liva but a.fc-w hozrs, but when-.! the next morr.hig had ct: is _h? _sl’.cx. J , •sigrfs of in'J’TO'Ji i;ictitre" 11 oavl'w.laken-to-tljA hospitot, and hiu lii'ul.lii-.i-dfttailc-1 to ?,t tend -him until an r.dvance shwEEbycnJaeSt--1 kin' it?,y rh ?re -os:u: e T to the hospital ■ a ror.r.g

i-:Eentoekyw=She7h&r been- regarded as a belle in f'r.’.ss she gave r.p socidVjr ■and went T.onth to nurse -wounded 'soldiers. young v.’cnam—took - special iniercXt in . John made a-ren-iane© of her duty, and at times -when t-ho vYounckd raan’’seemed brighter than Usual she would sit near his_cot and read poetrytp him. . But upon this Henry began’ to Ic-ok with disapproval, and once wb.en the girl had gone to-fetch another bock he said to his brother: “I don’t think that’s right, John.” “Don'/threk wdiat’s right?” ~“-Why,hii''. lug Lhat girl renl lure: verses; to ;■ d.” ' ’•che’s rending to herself as much as she is-to me.”- ' “I don’t know about that, JcLn.” ‘ rr WeTl, 'bnt I don’t think it’s right, and I know Tress wouldn’t approve it.” . “Then why doesn’t she come and .read to me?” ; “She . : doesn*t IknOiv that ycn are: wounded. I haven’t had the heart to tell hi r.’’ “HusE; hero comes Sffis Ev.rJ>.” 1 lehry withdrew, hut some one sjioke to him, and he halted within hearing distance of his brother's cot. “I didn't suppege-you were so. fond of poetry,” said Miss Bush, speaking to John. “I wasn’t until I heard you read it.” ‘ ‘Cli, that’s a compliment su rely; but, tell me. since you acknowledge that I have pointed out the beauty of” — She hesitated. “Tell you what?” , “Oil, nothing.’’ “But what wero you going to toy?” “Something hardly proper, I fear.” “Toll me,” lie pleaded. “Oil, I don’t suppose that it amounts to anything. I was simply going to ask if there had mfrs been a time when some girl stirred a poetic emotion in your heart.” A few moments elapsed before he replied, “I worked so hard when T was at home that I had but little time for” — “For love?” she asked. of the bed, and gently she arranged the pillow for him. “Near our place,” said he, “there is a girl that I've known a long.time T’yft. known her abouf all herTife,"Tguessl” “What about her?” “Well, I told her that she should marry a hero. You see, I thought I’d go home covered with glory.” “Oh, you are engaged to her.” “Yes, in a way.” “In a way! Why, what a funny sort of an engagement chat must be! Shall I read now?” ■-- “If you please.” » * * * * * After returning home it was some time before Henry had the courage to call on Tress Pryor. ■ But, one eveninglie went .to see her. As ho entered the gate lie saw her standing on the spot where she had stood when John camo dashing up to tell her that he was going to the war. She reached- out and took JiLsdiands, and for a time neither of them Spoke. '“Tress, he died for his country.”

“And for me,” she said. “Y-e-s. He lay a long time in the hospital, ahcFwe thought he was going to get well, but. a sudden change came, and he died. He begged to be buried under the tree where lie fell, and we buried hin\ there.” “But did he send no word to me?’ “Oh, yes, he talked about you a great deal. He was brave, and if he had come back ydu would have married a hero.” And it was Henry, Archer and Tress Pryor who went every year to decorate the grave under the willow. They beCflnie well known in the neighborhood, and school children used to climb high up the mountain side and get strange flowers for i.i m. Henry moved to the

uortinvest, but on time every year lie would get'off the train at the milk station near Tress’ liome. —:— One time xvhen he came she said to him: “It doesn’t look right to - drag you away from, your business wcry year. My time, you know, doesn't amount to anything.” “Mine doesn’t amount to* -so very nw’.!,” he Paswcrc.'.: “and besides it isa great pleasure to §5 Ihw.” t “Yes, it is. But tell no, Henry, why is it you have never married?” “Oh, I don’t know. Because there have been so many divorces', I suppose.” “That's a queer reason. But it isn’t the reasonpand you know it,” she added, looking him full in the eye.

“Well,” he replied, avoiding her gaze, “if that isn’t the reason I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I had a cause a good while ago.” “And you have forgotten what it was,” she said, laughing, but in her . laugh there was more of sadness than of mirth. After a time she asked, “Do you think a man’s love is as constant as a woman's?” “Not always, but sometimes,” he answered. “But do you believe that a man or a woman can love twice with equal devotion?” “I don’t know how it may be with others,” he answered,'“but I could never love but once.” “Oh, you have been in love, you?” ■-,■■■ “Tomorrow we start fcr the grave,” he said. “Yes, but you have not answered my question.” “I will answer it at the grave.” * * * » It was the 30 th* of last May. Henry and Tress sqt under the willow. Another generation of school children had brought violets from wild places and had gathered blossoms on the mountain side. The grave was ablaze with red roses, white dogw' od blossoms and bluebells. The sun was low. .The cows, ringing their bells, were going home. Henry told a story which so often he had related: “The skirmish was sharp, almost a battle, and there was danger everywhere, shut John was too brave to mamt behind the tree. I was not far away, and the bullets were* buzzing thicker than bumblebees in our meadow, but somehow I was not afraid of being hit—my mind was centered John. What difference could it have inadejf I had been shot?’ “Don't talk tliat way.” she interrupted. “But why s’yoiild I have cared for myself? There-wusnocne atheme waiting for me to come back a hero.” He paused fora fewmnments. “-ArrincreaM? in thefiring tothelefteaiised iHetoturn in th’i; direction, and when I looked back John was down.” .. -tWcu have never painted out the place where the hospital sh*sl.” she said. He was silent for a time. “I don't like to think of the hospitoL” “Oh, op account of a woman’:’’ “You have answered me at thegrave,”

she .said, looking away. “You were in ..love with -her.” ' I’.-. -iih. Tr .s.” “■’lire, you were.”, “I s:wear I wasn’t.” —HYte, you were/! .. ._ “Trees, I Bated her.” “Hated her! What for?” “-‘Beeaustrshewas your enemy.” “My enhmy! Henry, I don’t know-what-you mean. How could she be iny enemy?’’ “She loved John.” “Oh, and is that all?” • “All,” lie repeated, “Isn’t that enough?” “To have made her my enemy? No.” “But—but—it’s got to come now. John loved her.” “HoW do you know?” She was so quiet that he was surprised at her. “I might as well tell you all now. Here.” He took from his pocket an old and faded letter. “He told mo 'to give you this, but I hadn’t the heart. Read it.”

_ The letter was brief. It was the breaking of an engagement. She read the letter and quietly banded it back to him. He gazed at her in astonishment. “Tress,” h.; cried, “on his deathbed he married that woman.” She did not ansxvef. “I MJ he married her.” “Well?” “Is it possible? Tress, I ought to have told yon—ought to have given you the letter—but I thought you worshiped him. And why have, you decorated his ! grave all these years?” “Because he was your brother.” rfßThat! I-I-don’t” “Henry, oh, how stupid you have been, you”—She did not complete the sentence. He had seized her hand's. ‘ ‘Merciful heaven, girl, I have always loved you!” “And, precious, I never loved John, because I loved you, but I was afraid you would despise mo if I were not true to hjs.memDry. You engaged me to him. I don’t know how. but you did.” ? The sun xvas down, and the music qf the cowbells was far away. J ©HS Read.

TOOK SPECIAL INTEREST IN JOHN ARCHER.

HE HAD SEIZED HER HANDS.