Ray's Memorial

When Ralph Winthrop died, every body sahl it was a inerciful release- everyone but Ray and mamma. They said: "It is our Father's will; it must be rigbt; we will try to bear it." True, they kinew- even eight year-old Kay- as no one else could that the decade foUowtag the war hai been a decade of suflering for hku, suffering patiently, even oheerfully borne; yet he woulU gladiy have livWi and continued to endure, that he ■miht sharè and lightn the burdens ol hiu wiie and child. "Yet it is wèll, my precious Rachel, juy darling Uttle IUiy. I tannot see, yet I fchow His way is best. He will ketp you to the end. His peáoe be with you !" And soon he "feil asleep." Then, as they gazed upon his plactd lace, even little Ray's tears were dried, her sobs lmshed, lor heaven's gliory seemed renected there; as if the üsht streaming thrmigh the pearly gatea, as they opened to nis entering soul, had fallen upon the empty tenenient of clay -a radlemce ioreshadowvng the re urrection mom. When they foUowed to ite last rest;„„ „!,.„ thp lwloved form, the first withered leaves were dropping fronj tJie flamüng niaples near by. Ere long they were strewn over the newmade grave, amd lay In thick masses all a bout ie, and clumps of sweetbriar near its toot waved in every breeze their coral caskets. Thwi carne the now, spreading its white mantlo over the narrow mound, and inaking of the tall fir-tree at its head, a gleaming jnomuaent, imer than ever carved. . Another liad been added to the lons rst of -waf wid'ows," and month after moiith Mrs. Wtothrop received irom Washington the emú with which a gratral (?) country rewarded those who gave their all tor her salvación. In their humble home in the tali city teuement, wich prudence and simplicity, the mother and child had managed to live through the long, cold winter, and now rejoiced in the coming of spring. Froni their lofty windows they caught gltaipses of the trees im a small city park, and how eagerly irom day to day they watched the changtog picture made by tliieiT topinost boughs agaimst the deep blue Apriil sky; the tracery of diender twigs beo ame less delicate as the firb-t tavisible buds began to swell; Kooai the reddteh brown of the bare bramclues was veiled by the mosty green of opening leayea, m iaint and iaiir at first, later 80 rieh a.nd deep a,nd luxuriant under May's life-rewewimg touch. These far-away glimpses of sprimg were all that cama tJO the wKlow anu ucr cuiiu, ;.,ctu a little pot oí violet s. all tkrough the long winter eherished by Ray with loving eace. A dozen times a day the chKd bemt over theni, watching th; uncnrling oï each leaf and stem- the ulow developuieot of the anxiously awaiited blossomis. "O mamma, will there be many by the thirtk'th ?" "60 mamma, I cao tmiut twenty buds now ! Do you thiaik they will' be open in time ?" Thus again and again shü queetioned, a.s the inonth oí May was waniug. lt was the moruing oï the 2'Jth. Bay to'Ok a leming, lingering look at her beautiful plant ere settiág out upon an errand for her mother. Fifteen blossoms were now unlolded, and befoi-e to-morrow at least three more would open, perhaps ftve, and there were a number of smaller buds. Oh, how lightly beat the little heart as the ehiild sped ou her way. "To-morrow ! Ah, to-morrow I" They had been plauning aud saving for to-morrow tsuoh a long, long time. For the iirst time since the enow'g depanuri', they were going agaiai to look upoii ihat long, narrow mound with the fir-tree at its liead, where rested the father. And the eherished vtolets- they were going too. It was for this they had been no tenderly cared tor tlirough the long winTer, that in their wealth pi beauty and bloom the little girl niight place them on her father's fcrara; he and lier niotker wera soing to take their lunch with theiii, that they miglit i-peiid a few iiödrs in beautiiying the lowly inound. With her niiiüU ïilR'd with these thouidits, tu the exclunlon oi all else, on lier return, near her own doorway, Kay ran pluiup a.ainst a little figure ol about her own size. Start íiiiíí bark the saw it was a totoied child who lived in the next tcnenicut. .She wa cryfcng bitterly, and lUiy, wlio liad lngun vith"()ii, excuse me, pipase I" now, added: ■■Vhy, what ts the matter? I diii aiot know I hui-t you so much." The word.-i werc nothiug1, but the tender, sympathetic tune oi the .-weet musical vok-e would liave wou auy lieart. "Oh, ao', 'deed, llttlé tnissy ! You ntbber hurted Jmly none. TI hadn't er been er eryin' 1 wouldn't er buniped yer, nohow. Berry sorry, miesy; id I hurted you." ■Hurt me V No, indeed!" and a .weet little lauii trilled out. Then soberly agam: "But "why were you cryiag, then ? Who did hurt you ?" ■'Nobody hiurted Judy, mi.ssy. 'Twas Jiinmy Jo-aes knocked my pennios out my hand inter that puddle." "Oh, dear ! that's too bad. 80 cruel! How much was it ? Was it to buy your dinner ?" "There was te.n of 'em, miesy. I'se been a sabin' ob 'em Ier mos' a y'ar, I t'iiok. Was goia' to git a flower dow-n twe de shop to put on my fadder's grabe tomorrer. He was a solgier, miissy." Worde would fail to express the pride that was im the tone. The dart eyes dilated, the little iigure was drawji up to ita full foeight, and in pite of döapidated garments and Dlack face, thiere was a real illgnitj in the child's appearance. In mueh the same gpiriit and man uer Ray responded: ''Arad eo was mine !" And thre was at once establishec a bond of sympathy between that dark-skinned ehiild oi a poor, despis e& race, and the golden-haiired, lily faced daughter of the Puritano. The latter stood im deep thought Jor a moment, with fhiger on lip and eyes cast down. Su'eh thoughts as these amiimated her: "My father died that they might be free. He gave up hto li'fe, and I -oh, it's so hard to giive up !" Then aloud: "Please Btay here, Judy, till I come back." Up the long flights of stairs she sped through the room where her mother sat, busily sewtog, to tha tiny bedroom beyond. wlwre she flung herself dowin by the bedside. "Father," she murmured, "will you know that I lore you if there isn't a flower om your grave ? I do believe you would rather the poor colored man had the flowers than yourself." Wiping away her tears, she went quietly out to her mother. "Mamma, may I give my violets to Judy ?" "AVliat ? to whoin ?" asked Mrs. Winthrop in amazement. The Httle girl explained, and ah though her mother made 110 objection, she womdered ff the ñowers could possibly be 1-oved and appreciated by any one as by Ray. But h-er mind was relieved on this score as she looked froim her high wlbdow upon the scène in t.he street below. As Ray went slowly down the stairs sïie pressed anseen, a farewell kis upon the fragrant blossoms. On reactñ ing the street, she ealmly spoke: "Judy. -vvould you like these flowers to put om your father's grave ?" A moment the child stared ín open mowthed astonishment, tlien exelahned: "Them flowers ? Yer don't mean it, mtesy !" With eager, trernbltng bands the poor little girl grasped tlie flower pot, and dropped tears and kisses like rain upon lts leavea and blossoms, them suddenly siezirag Ray's hand, she kissed it a dozen times, and ried: "O mtesy, missy, I tank yer ! God in hebben bless yer !" The ehild drew back, abashed at thfa iimpetuous act of homage of the impulsive "child of nature." "You' are very -welcome, Judy," sail she, i'n her pimple, old-fashioned formuln. and ran back to her room. Althou'gh they had no flowers to carry, Mrs. Wimthrop thought it wel! to carry out the originad plan, so the next day about noon found them maktag their way through Forest Hill cemetery to the humblo corner where rested their belored dead. Weary with their four-mile walk, they sat down !n the fir-tree's cnol shadow to eat their sianple luncheon. Then pointinft to a lower part of the cemetery, as vet urax-cupied and unimproved, "Mama," asked Ray, "may I go dowu there whiile you are resting, and see f I can ftad a few wild flowers to put here im place of my violets ?" "Yes, ií you do not go far or utay very long." In about half an hour she returno(T. to fi;nd her mother looking unusïally cheerful, though there were races of tears on her face, while on the head of the grave lay a lovely wi-cath of magnállcent roses. ■■Vhy, mamma, where did these come from ?" "I suppose you have to thank your i.ttle frii-nd Judy. for ttuean, my dear. short Time ago she carne, aecompaniied by a lady who carriied this beauiful wroath, and asked, 'Is this a soldier's grave ?' On my replying thai t was, she laid the wreath there, then sitting down beside me, she told me lnow she had found Judy setting out her pot of violets on her father's grave. She began talking wiith her, nul soon, in reply to her lnqulries, Tmly told )wr of your gift of the violets. But she saidshe feared you i;id no flowers left, as she was near, tlKiuffh we did not sec her, when you spoke of Kohifi to gathier the Avild flowers. So tlie lady, one of the 'lower committee for Memorial day. selected tliis wreath trom a large Kisket of fine flowers, and she s.iys vini, are t pegará it as your tribute to your father's memory. 'Nevortheess,' she said, to memorial could lm more lionorabli' than your little girl's wii generouí sácrlfice oí her eherish■d flowers.' And slve promised before i-Oie weat away to send some one tomorpow to put this grave in nice orler and to plant a hardy white rose nul a ïnyrtle niiim it, 'in honor of a soldier and his daughter.' " The passing yeare found Ray developing througti a beautllul girllOOd to a noble womaaihood, eharictierized by aai 1 1 1 sweet, generaus taraits thai graced her cliildhood. It was trne t lint poerty's chaina liad liound her and restrained lier gpirit's Boaring wiaags, but a brave, strong soul like hers camnoi be wholly bound. It will overeóme the obstarles whieh luie in ihe way of its grand purposes. Thus it was that at the end ot her twenty-fifth year Rachel Winthrop was about graduating from one of our best colleges. A large volume would be needed to nárrate the long and toilsome steps by whlch she had reached this goal. Tlie difficuHies she had surmoumted would have daunted a' less courageous spirit. Yct with herofc heart and steady eye she stood at the hcad of her class. Tt is the morning of the f?Oth of May. In her little room in a quiet tenement sits Ray by the window, thinking earnestly, then kneels by the bedside ie long, silent prayer. Now 6he goes into the adjoiming room where lier mother is eeated ini a lo rocker, and kneeling down by lier side Ray leans her head on her shoulder. "What is it, my darltng ?" asks the niother, arad taJtes between her hands the golden head, looking tenderly up on tlie pure, pale face. "I kno-w eomethlng has Uen on your mind for soine tinne. Have you thought it all out? Are you ready for mother no-w ?" "Yes, mother darlimg; it is the old thougbt of papa's memorial. You know how erery year wheoi I was a lffftle giTl I would have my violet, for the 30th, But as I grew older I kxnged for a marble pillar to place above hie grave- someth wig perma nent ie luis hono-r, you know. I do mot believe you had the least klea how the thought posessed me, how 1 su ved my odd pemn'ies and diiue for tfoat purpose umtü I had quite a little sum. Thein othe-r ideas began evolving tlw-mselves from the nebulac in my brain. You remember that lady's words bo lomg ago- 'when I gave poor little Judy my violets- tliat the sacrifice was a worthy memorial of my fatJier ? Mother, you know my father loved that poor, despieed black race- how he talked and planned what he would do for them if the Lord would permit him. Would not something done for them or iu their behalf please hini more thau the grandest monument, or a mausoleum equal to the Taj Mehul ? If you approve - and I am sure 5'ou will - tire momey I have saved I wil] put into the hands of the Freedmen's Society in my fatlrer's name." "No, tbat is not all. Shut your eyes tiglvt, mamma dear, anú hold me close wliile I teil you. I seern to liear a calling, mamma - a votee that cries, 'Come" over and help us!' Mother, .sli.ill I gö ? Was it nof for bhiia God has gwéti me stri'ngtlï and encrgy and opportunity to acquirs the educatlon that seemed at fir.sr denied '.' He %fu& fitted me to be of use kn that fi'eld, and shall I not go ?" Mrs. Wimthrop sat in silence a few miinutes, tlien answered quietly: "My dear, I sihall not seek to dissuade you; but, to make it casier ior you, I" wMl go you." "MotlMT, darlimg, you know I should be o gladdened by that, that I should seem to make no sacrifice at all. But ut would not be right to let you go where you would prohablï be harnp ed by the chamge of climate." "Ray, you are all I have. To bQ separated from you would shortem my days - goi'iig might not harm me. Ae for the sacrifice, others will remincJ vou of your talents, now like sharpe.ned tools ready for use, they wilj say you are burymg. ïhey wijl teil you mot to throw yourself, your opportumïtk-s away; they will appeal to your love of home aaid friends." "Mother, oou are my home. 1 you are with me I lose nothing. For my trteads I have sincere regard, but eau easiay giive t'hem up for the sake of doinp this work. What valjie have these talents of which you speak, i not to use in God's service ? Is thero aaiy cause more worthy than to worli for these poor blacks, HLs neglected children, strivins to lead them out of their mteery and ignorance and (legradat ion, toto the light of truth and wisdom and knowledge of Him?" Ray's "memorial" fe being erected. Not many have seen iit, and of those vho have, not all have appreciated t wortli, for lm the estiraation of so many the value of polished shaft, wltK exaggerated epitaph far oxceerts that? of a liife of devotion, frajcrant with rood deeds, whose taufluence símil outast etenniifcy. Rut "the day shall declare it," and tï that day, in the light of eternity, t shall stand, while marble monument and cwstly crnmble to