A vague recollection of the fateful slope of Snake River came over him.

It was intensified as Miss Sally, who was still preceding him, suddenly stopped before an isolated mound bearing a broken marble shaft and a pedestal with the inscription, "Chester Brooks." A few withered garlands and immortelles were lying at its base, but encircling the broken shaft was a perfectly fresh, unfaded wreath.
"You never told me he was buried here!" said Courtland quickly, half shocked at the unexpected revelation.

"Was he from this State ?" "No, but his regiment was," said Miss Sally, eying the wreath critically.
"And this wreath, is it from you ?" continued Courtland gently.
"Yes, I thought yo' 'd like to see something fresh and pooty, instead of those stale ones." "And were they also from you ?" he asked even more gently.
"Dear no! They were left over from last anniversary day by some of the veterans.

That's the only one I put there--that is--I got Mr.Champney to leave it here on his way to his house.

He lives just yonder, yo' know." It was impossible to resist this invincible naivete.