Photograph by C. U. Williams, Bloomington, Ill.The grave of Ann Rutledge, Oakland Cemetery, Petersburg, Illinois.
Photograph by C. U. Williams, Bloomington, Ill.
The grave of Ann Rutledge, Oakland Cemetery, Petersburg, Illinois.
Twenty years ago Ann Rutledge was brought in from the country burying-ground and laid in Oakland Cemetery, in Petersburg. Only a field boulder marks the mound to-day, but the young girls of the city and county, who claim her as their own, are to celebrate Lincoln’s centennial year by setting up a slender shaft of Carrara marble over the grave of Lincoln’s lost love. Around her, on that forest-clad bluff, lie Old Salem neighbours. It is a cheerful place, where gardeners mow the grass and sweep the gravelled roadways, where carriages drive in the park-like enclosure on Sunday afternoons and flowers are laid lavishly on new-made graves. Bird-haunted, robins chirp in the blue grass and woodpeckers drum on the tree-trunks; bluebirds, tanagers and orioles, those jewels of the air with souls, flash across the sunlit spaces, and the meadow-lark trills joyously from a near-by field of clover.No longer is she far away and alone, in cold and darkness and storm, where he could not bear to think of her, but lying here among old friends, in dear familiar scenes, under enchantment of immortal youth and deathless love, on this sunny slope, asleep....Flow gently, sweet Sangamon; disturb not her dream.
Twenty years ago Ann Rutledge was brought in from the country burying-ground and laid in Oakland Cemetery, in Petersburg. Only a field boulder marks the mound to-day, but the young girls of the city and county, who claim her as their own, are to celebrate Lincoln’s centennial year by setting up a slender shaft of Carrara marble over the grave of Lincoln’s lost love. Around her, on that forest-clad bluff, lie Old Salem neighbours. It is a cheerful place, where gardeners mow the grass and sweep the gravelled roadways, where carriages drive in the park-like enclosure on Sunday afternoons and flowers are laid lavishly on new-made graves. Bird-haunted, robins chirp in the blue grass and woodpeckers drum on the tree-trunks; bluebirds, tanagers and orioles, those jewels of the air with souls, flash across the sunlit spaces, and the meadow-lark trills joyously from a near-by field of clover.
No longer is she far away and alone, in cold and darkness and storm, where he could not bear to think of her, but lying here among old friends, in dear familiar scenes, under enchantment of immortal youth and deathless love, on this sunny slope, asleep....
Flow gently, sweet Sangamon; disturb not her dream.
There are two descriptions of Ann Rutledge, one by W. H. Herndon. The other, not so well known, is by T. G. Onstot, son of Henry Onstot, the New Salem cooper, in his “Pioneers of Mason and Menard.” Mr. Onstot is still living, at the age of eighty in Mason City, Illinois, the sole survivor of the historic settlement on the Sangamon, and an unquestioned authority on the history of the region. He was six years old when Ann Rutledge died. He does not profess to remember her personally, but to have got her description from his father and mother. The families were next-door neighbours for a dozen years, and life-long friends. Herndon lived in Springfield. Mr. Onstot’s description is used here as, in all probability, the correct one, for this reason, and also because it is more in keeping with the character of Ann Rutledge, as revealed in her tragic story.
1—SeeNote.2—Ida M. Tarbell’s “Early Life of Lincoln.”
The following corrections have been made in the text:1—‘yath’ replaced with ‘path’(an avalanche on its path)