"A visit to Paroquet Springs is not complete unless the visitor goes to the "Lone Grave," a romantic spot on the east side of the grove. The history of the lone mound hidden away among the trees and covered with its green mantle of ivy is pathetic and tragic. The writer heard the story from Judge William R. Thompson, who was a young man when the affair occurred, and who died in 1894. It is short and simple and will bear telling.

In 1834 a young man came from New York to the springs to spend the summer and soon after his arrival was introduced to a young woman from Mississippi, who was there with her widowed mother to spend the season. The couple seemed to have been fashioned by fate for each other. They were young, wealthy, and of aristocratic lineage, both were highly educated and gifted in music and conversation. She was a typical Southern beauty of the brunette type, of majestic figure, and her suitors were legion. He was handsome, of fine athletic form, and a social lion. It seemed to be a case of love at first sight. They became constant and inseparable companions. In the ballroom, on the river, at the musicales, or strolling beneath the boughs of the great trees, they were together unmindful of all else. Persistently and ardently he pressed his suit through the fleeting summer hours, and before the summer had waned he had won her heart.

In the fall they separated, but with the understanding that in the early winter he was to make her his wife, and take her to his Eastern home. Believing in his love and manhood, she went back to her Southern home and waited for him, but he never came, and at last, broken-hearted and disgraced, she died, after exacting from her faithful and grief-stricken old mother a promise that her body should be brought back to Paroquet Springs and buried beneath the tree under which she first met her unfaithful lover. True to her promise, her mother had the body of her unfortunate daughter conveyed to Paroquet and laid away where her last and happiest summer had been spent; and there she sleeps today beneath the mighty monarchs of the forest that keep their ceaseless vigils above her lonely tomb.

The iron fence which surrounds the grave was placed there when the grave was made about seventy-four years ago and has never been painted or cared for; but time has spared it from the touch of his destroying hand, and it is almost as good today as in 1835, when it was placed there by the faithful mother to guard the grave of her child. No message ever came back from the mother, and as time passed on the name of the unfortunate girl was forgotten. No stone is there to tell her name; but from sire to son and mother to daughter he sad story has been handed down. Nor does the story contain the name of the man who wrecked the poor girl's life."

"In an isolated spot near the limits of Paroquet Grove, near Shepherdsville, on the bank of Salt River, there is a small iron fence, an antiquated beech tree, and a growth of myrtle that reviewed the passer-by of the sad and tragic end of a young society belle of the Southland whose presence added to the gaiety of the throng of pleasure seekers who flocked to Paroquet Spring more than a half century ago.

She died of a broken heart, in the full bloom of sweet woman-hood about the year 1848 and at her request, made on her dying bed, her remains were conveyed from her home in Mississippi and interred in Paroquet Grove, where the happiest moments of her life were spent two years before in the daily companionship of a young man whom she is supposed to have first met at Paroquet Hotel, during the summer of 1846, and to whom she was subsequently engaged to be married.

Shortly after her engagement, he lover became a soldier in the Mexican War, from which he never returned, and it was claimed that he was slain on the field of carnage in the battle of Vera Cruz, which occurred March 29, 1847.

The bier wherein repose the remains of the young lady, and over which have whistled the bleak winds of more than sixty winters is known as the "Lone Grave" and its history, as near as can be ascertained, is, about as follows.

Sixty years ago where Paroquet Springs was in the zenith of its glory as a fashionable watering place, and it's fame was circumscribed only by the limits of civilization, there came from the south, somewhere in Mississippi, a beautiful and accomplished young lady to spend the summer season at Paroquet; she was dark-eyed and pretty, and her graceful form and angelic manners as she glided along the balconies of the hotel were magnets that drew all eyes towards her.

Her father was very wealthy, owning a large plantation and it was her custom every summer to hie herself away from the scorched pine barrens of her native state and betake herself to the cool and healthful resort of the North but this time she concluded to spend the heated term at Paroquet Springs on the bank of the historic Salt River and it was here that the god of fate set the die that hurled her into an untimely end with a broken heart.

At the same time there also came a young man of high standing and education and he too registered at Paraquet Hotel for the summer. He was brave and handsome and his home was in Virginia. After remaining at the hotel for a short while it was his good fortune to become acquainted with the young lady from Mississippi whom he showed many favors and much attention. She was of a sweet sunny disposition and her bright glances and sweet smiles soon won his heart. The acquaintance soon grew into respect and adoration. They spent much of the time together in the grove beneath the cooling shade trees and so mutual was their love that they seemed not to care for the company of others.

As the sweet summer zephyrs were about to give way to the chilling blast from the frigid north, they realized that the cruel hand of fate would soon cause their separation, and, strolling out into the grove, they seated themselves in their grapevine swing, side by side and made their arrangements for the bright and promising future, when by the holy bonds of wedlock they should be man and wife.

They soon reached an understanding by which they were to be married the following spring and their plan was to spend the honeymoon where they first loved each other. Paroquet to them was the sweetest spot on earth, and they longed for the time when they could return as man and wife and again occupy their old seat in the swing beneath the massive beech.

On the following day (Sept the 15, 1846) the hotel closed for the season and amid deep sobs and bitter anguish they bade one another an affectionate good-bye and proceeded on their journeys to their far-away homes.

According to their plans this separation was to have been brief but in pursuance of the plans of the most high, they were then and there separated forever. After arriving at their homes, a daily interchange of communications took place, each expressing in burning words of love, their devotion and fidelity to the other. She relied implicitly in his truthfulness and honor, while he entertained no doubt as to her love and devotion.

The wedding day was set for May 1, 1847 and during that winter she began to prepare for the occasion. The ceremony was to have been preformed with great pomp and splendor and the bride and groom were to start immediately for Paroquet Spring where they had planned to spend the sultry months of summer.

But the god of fate in his cruel wisdom interfered with their plans and decreed that their happy anticipation should culminate in despair by inspiring the young man with the love of battle, when he took up arms for his country's sake, unmindful of what the future may bring and with the gallantry of a hero and chivalry of a patriot turned his face toward the setting sun and made his way to the plains of Mexico where, in the bloom of his youth and in the vigor of manhood he fought, bled and died and left his bones bleaching on the shifting sand hills in the vicinity of Vera Cruz.

Although encumbered with the arduous duties of a soldier, it was his custom to write letters to the object of his solicitude at every opportunity and she replied to his message with great promptness and frenzied enthusiasm.

But Alas! He wrote no more! Her daily visits to the post-office became fruitless and exasperating.

She feared the worse, but still had hope until the close of the war, where the soldiers, returning to their homes informed her that her lover had lost his life on the field of carnage, a leaden bullet having pierced his heart and he was left rotting in the chaparral thicket of Vera Cruz.

When these sad tidings reached her she wept bitterly, and her anguish was great and incessant. Her health began to decline apace and in a few short months the glow of her cheeks was gone, her complexion had become swarthy, and her bright eyes had become pale. She was soon a physical wreck languishing between life and death. Fully realizing that her days on earth were few, she called her parents to her bedside and with faint voice earnestly requested that after her death, which she and they knew well would not be long postponed, her remains be conveyed to Paraquet Grove and buried without ceremony, in the lovely spot by the old beech tree, where, but few months before, she and her lover had sat together in their swing, and where her future life was pledged to the young man brave and true.

She also requested that her grave be protected by a simple iron fence, but that no monument be erected to hand down from our generation to another the tragic story of her fatal courtship. All these requests were carried out to the letter and to this day, the Lone Grave with its rusty iron fence remains intact and is a source of interest to large numbers of people who visit the springs each summer.

No monument stands to tell the sad story or any part of it, but the old beech which stood near by had engraved on its bark the following:

ALICE BUFORD
CHESTER SCOTT
SEP. 14-1846

The beech tree, which was standing two years ago, is now decayed, and the above inscription is not now legible. The name of the unfortunate young lady whose bones lie moldering in the grave near by is not known here, nor the name of the young man whose bones lie bleaching on the plains of Mexico! Yet it is reasonably certain that the crude letters on the beech tree tell the true names of these unfortunate young people and that "Sept 14-1846" was the day they separated with bright hopes for the future, but never met again this side of the great unknown."

The Story of the Lone Grave
By Carolyn French 1991
Reprinted with Permission from Carolyn French

Alice and Chester embraced under the Beech trees near the bank of the flowing Salt River. A sweltering sun was beginning its westerly decent as they made their way back to the hotel.

Alice had been busy throughout the day trying to decide what to wear on this last night before she and Chester would part.

Exhausted, she decided to lie down for a short nap now that her ball gown had been taken to be pressed by her servant, and life-long friendóGracie. Although it was Gracie who first suggested the idea of a nap; now that Alice was alone, she felt the need for a brief rest on this sultry, September afternoon. She placed herself wearily on the satin coverlet of the comfortable four-poster bed. The bed took a major portion of her elegantly decorated room in The Paroquet Springs Hotel. She slept deeply.

Her father, a Mississippian of great wealth, had made sure her room faced the north, so as to shield her from the drawing heat of the afternoons.

The mineral springs had helped her to gain strength after a short -bout with a draining illness.

Although her parents had in years past sent Alice north for the summer, where the climate was more comfortable, her recent illness, and the suggestion from a business associate of her father concerning the healing qualities of the Springs, helped him decide to send her to Shepherdsville, Kentucky, for the summer months of 1846.

As she dozed in the quietness, she relived the "special" times of the past few months. The day Alice met Chester had been full of uncertain intrigue. Gracie had just returned from the stables to let Alice know the horse she had asked to ride was saddled and ready. Alice had chosen to wear a pastel-shaded dress with eyelet- frocked sleeves.

When she gained entrance to the stable door, she was somewhat taken aback when she noticed a very handsome young man leading a gallant black stallion from a stall.

With his back to her, giving total attention to his steed, he walked toward the rear of the barn, mounted the great horse and rode away.

Alice had not realized she was staring until Gracie faced her eye-to-eye, blocking the view of the shadowy rear door of the barn. A stable hand helped Alice to mount the beautiful chestnut filly side-saddled and placed the reins within her white-gloved palm.

She decided the feelings awakened but moments ago were newó different, and as she liked complete control, threw them from her mind and sent the horse off in a canter in the opposite direction the young man had taken.

The evening of that first day brought with it a glorious sunset. Viewed from the ornate balcony, which encased the whole of the second floor, she could see for miles toward the west to the lengthy ridge in the distance.

She had had a delicious meal, already knowing her father had once more made the right choice in sending her here. They were very close as a family. Although her mother at first protested sending her to the Springs, wishing her instead to return to the north near her aunt and uncle, the battle of wills had been won in a gentle manner, as usual, by her father.

The young girl was gazing into the sunset and suddenly felt a combined chill and warmth spread over her shoulders. She moved to catch the crocheted shawl higher upon her arms, when out of the corner of her right eye she caught sight of the young man she'd seen earlier in the day with the black stallion. His eyes were directed toward the hills in the distance.

Alice again fixed her eyes upon his face much more in focus now with the radiant sun's rays cast full on him. For some reason it seemed fate was pushing them closer.

Suddenly Gracie's voice came from over her shoulders, breaking her intransient gaze. She turned to ask politely for Gracie to repeat herself once more. Gracie asked if Alice would be needing her anymore for the night. Alice assured Gracie that she would be fine and thought she caught a glimmer in her young friend's eyes as she rounded to leave.

She must remember to ask Gracie tomorrow what the hint of glimmer in her eyes had meant. Gracie, try as she might, could never keep secrets from Alice. Alice was glad their relationship was as it had been and became very bothered by the notion that Gracie's people were yet ridiculed and treated so harshly.

Putting those thoughts away, Alice looked once again to where the young man had stood. The spot was now empty and she felt a loss she could not explain. She walked graciously along the railing looking to the west again. The sun's rays, now visibly sinking behind the ridge, were replaced by the dancing tops of the Beeches, swaying soundlessly in a gentle warm breeze.

Alice heard a shuffle of footsteps and moved closer to the rail as a couple moved past arm-in-arm, barely floating as they held each other's eyes.

When they had moved on she noticed someone leaning against the wall. It was the young man. He too had followed the movement of the couple as they passed and now his gaze lifted meeting Alice's eyes. He moved toward her in an instant and her heart stopped beating for a brief moment. He held out his hand, picked up her small right hand and lifted it to his lips.

She thought she would faint from the feelings which had but in a moment's time flowed through her, melting her.

Chester Scott--he introduced himself--from Virginia. She at once curtseyed and took her hand shyly from his. She politely voiced her nameóAlice Buford, and from the moment on they fell deeper in love.

The days and nights had been filled with dancing, walks and relaxation in the swing he'd made for her among the Beeches near the hotel grounds.

Gracie, too, had found love with the stable hand who had helped them on their first day at the Springs. Alice and Chester held very high standards and had great respect for each other.

Their love was pure and decent, and among the Beeches they made plans to come again to the Springs for their honeymoon.

Although they had made plans to be married the next year, they had this summer been made one by their undying love one held for the other. On one of their last days together Chester carved their names in the great Beech tree in the grove.

Aroused by a noise in the room, Alice quickly sat up in the bed. Gracie turned and made apologies for having disturbed her slumber. But Alice knew it was getting close to sunset and told Gracie to forget such nonsense as apologies.

They had seemed to grow apart in the past few months, and Alice knew why. They were putting their childhood to memory and becoming women. Their discussions included plans of marriage and families of their own. Of breaking ties with those back home and how it would affect themóthis summer of love.

As Alice dressed and made her way around the room in preparation for the last grand ball of the season, she could not keep herself from feeling the heavy sadness deep within her being.

It would be many months before she and Chester would see each other. She was determined to make this night perfect for them. A night to be cherished forever.

The ball was grander than she could have imagined to have made it. They danced arm-in-arm throughout the night which ended for the two lovers with a walk to "their" tree. They made a promise to remember their vows to each other and kissed unashamedly before they at last did part.

Chester walked Alice to her room and left her with Gracie, who held her while she sobbed into the early morning hours.

Alice and Gracie departed at mid-day on their long journey back home. Gracie and her true love had also made plans to come together to marry at his home church next year near the Springs.

Alice and Chester kept in touch closely and made plans for the first ball at The Paroquet Springs next year to be the reception following their wedding.

After a time, Chester wrote of the impending Spanish Civil War about to erupt and of his loyalty to his comrades. His letters came infrequently and then not at all. Alice worried and began to feel her health waning. After the war ended some of Chester's comrades made their way back to Alice and verbalized her worst fears,

Chester had died bravely in battle, his bones now bleaching in the sun, months later in some vast expanse of gritty sand in Mexico.

Alice's health now rapidly left her, and on her deathbed, she made her grieving parents promise that she would be buried beneath the Beeches at The Paroquet Springs in Shepherdsville, Kentucky.

Her unkempt grave can still be viewed in a field near the banks of the Salt River. The hotel, as if knowing its fate also, burned in the early 1900's.

For a short time before its demise, it was used as apartments. Few of those persons who lived there knew of the beautifully true, yet tragic love story surrounding the old building.

Much construction has gone on around the area and Chester and Alice's old Beech tree fell to disease long ago, but Paroquet Springs lives on through a shopping center named after it. And near the sight of the grand old hotel, another hotel has been erected.

Who is to say that history will not someday, sometime, repeat itself once again. Remember, Alice and Chester vowed to each other "love will go on forever...