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8 - THE ROCK ISLAND ARGUS, SATURDAY, APRIL 9, 1910.
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By Vincent Van Marter Beede.
I cannot help the feeling that it's not the thing to do,
To feed those cracker animals o creatures at the zoo;
For if I were a monkey I hardly think I should
Enjoy a cracker monkey, although the taste is good
THE HOME MADE FLAG.
By Hattie Vose Hall.
IERRE MICHAUD, was learning to be an
American. The busy city with its great cotton-mills,
where his father had come to
work, was a change indeed from the- green Canadian
fields where he and his sister Marie had played so
happily, but he had one great pleastire, he went to
sn American school, and he loved Miss Sargent, his
Miss Sargent had to teach her little pupils to speak
English as well as to read and spell, f or none of
them were little American children. There were
Francois and Xavier Tetrault, who lived next to
"You may answer, Rebecca."
"It is the dav of memory," said the little Jewess.
"Yes," said her teacher, "Rebecca is right.' It is
the day of memory, the day when wc remember the
men who fought for this clear land, and those who
died for their country. And whr.t do . we, use to
decorate with on this day cf memory?"
. "C'est le drapeau!" cried Xavier again.
"Who knows in English? What is cur American
word for this beautiful thing we r.H love?"
"The fag! The flag!' cried all the children.
"Well," said Miss Sargent. "I want every one of
"IV ere' you with General Washington t" he ashed.
Pierre; there were Antonio and Christina Polidori,
two little Italians who lived across the street; there
was chubby Hans Eaumgcrtncr, who lived around the
corner; there was Kebicca Michclson, who were scar
let ribbons on her black braids, the smartest child in
Miss Sargent's room and Miss Sargent was trying
to make little American citizens of them all.
It was the day before Memorial Day. Miss Sar
gent was asking questions.
- "Nov.-, -children," she said, "what tiny is tomorrow?
You may answer, Xavier."
"C'cst lr jour," began Xavier."
"He speaks the French," intcrrr.pted little Antr.nio.
"We speak Enjlish in this school,' said Miss Sar-
you tomorrow to have a flag flying from your win
dow, to show that though your fathers and mothers
are Italians, or French, or German, or Russian, you
respect the memory cf the men who raved this
country of ours, and want to grow up good American
citizcn3. School is dismissed."
Pierre walked slowly heme. He was trying to
think how he could keep tin's memory day. lie was
still thinking, when his mother crept softly from the
house,, bringing bread, and milk to the children, that
they might eat on the. doorstep, fcr their father, who
was ill, was asleep and murt not be dirtr.rbed. Pierre
looked down at his worn she es, r.t Marie's faded hair
ribbon. . There v.-rs r.o mcrey t flags in that fam
ily; since the father Lad fallen ilL six weeks before.
their mother had done laundry-work at home, that
the children might have bread. Pierre wished he
could earn a little money. But people did their own
errands in the foreign quarter, and his mother would
not let him go away from home. She feared the
crowded, busy streets, the hurrying trolley cars, the
swift automobiles. - Little Marie finished her bread
and milk; she. did not go to school, but Pierre was
teaching her to be a good American citizen too. A
man carrying a small flag walked up the street.
"What is that, Marie?" cried her brother.
"C'est l'homme," answered the child.
"Speak the English!" cried her brother.
'"C'est le man! said Marie, laughing..
"A man with a flag," corrected her brother.
"Hello, there's Rebecca!" Rebecca Michelson was
carrying proudly a bright new flag.
"See, Pierre!" she cried, "the red, white and blue!
I shall it from my window hang. Where then is
"The money I have not," said Pierre, slowly. "Our
money goes to Monsieur the doctor."
Rebecca nodded and passed along. Across the
street Christina and Antonio were hanging tiny flags
from their fourth-story window. 'Me, I would not
have one so small !" cried Pierre. "Marie, why can
we not make (fabriquer) a flag like Rebecca's?"
Marie nodded, "Oui ! yes, we, can. Is there not my
old skirt of scarlet and thy blo'us' of blue?"
Memorial Day dawned clear and bright- Sergeant
Eben Howe, on his way to Mount Hope, to deco
rate the graves of some of his comrades, with a de
tail of eight men, bearing wreaths and flags, stop
ped short before the door of the Michauds' home.
Something was draped over it. It was fearfully and
wonderfully made." The stripes were of different
widths and very crooked, and some of the stars, made
of old cotton cloth, were five-pointed and some six,
and they were pasted into an irregular field of blue,
but Sergeant Howe knew what it was. Pierre and
Marie sat proudly beneath it, and the gay colors
glowed in the morning sun.
"French Johnny's kids, boys," said Sergeant Howe.
He halted his little squad. "Attention! Salute the
colors!" The kind-hearted Grand Army men gravely
saluted, not a smile on a single face. Pierre stood up
his face glowing.
"O, thank you-!" he said. "We made it, the flag;
we have not all the stars put in, there was not cloth
some ate not quite straight, nor all the stripes. We
are Americans. Marie and I, but we could buy no
flar?; mv father is sick!" -
"That's too bad," said the Sergeant, kindly; "you
did well to make a flag."
"What do you with so many flags?" asked Ticrre.
Ebcn Howe looked at him in astonishment. Was
there a child in the United States who did not know
the customs of Memorial Day? Then he remem
bered. "That's the way we keep the day, sonny," he
answered gently. "We mark all the comrades' graves
with a flag and a wreath, so as to show we haven't
forgotten them.. We're going to Mount Hope now,
Want to come alonr? You can carry some of the
flags if you want to." Pierre needed no second in
vitation. "Yes. go, Pierre." cried his little sister, "I of the
flag will take care."
It was a long walk to Mount Hope, but to Pierre,
bearing flags, the proud progress was all too short.
Sergeant Howe sent him with five of the squad across
the street to St. Bernard's, while the others per
formed their gracious errand at Mount Hope. Pierre's
companions were four men with long white beards
and beautiful white hair, thick and curling under the
soft slouch hats, and Henry Owen, a watchman at
the mill, whom he knew in his working garb, but
whom the Sunday clothes, and - the hat with the
cord about it, and the G. A. R. button on the blue
coat, seemed to transform into a different person.
The sun shone brightly on the simple crosses above
the quiet sleepers, and as the old soldiers removed
the frayed and faded flags which had bravely fluttered
under a rear's storm and sunshine, and placed the.
beautiful "fresh colors in their stead. Pierre felt a
strange pride in these men of his faith who had heard
and heeded the call of duty in the hour of the na
tion's need. He touched the white-bearded man gently
on the sleeve.
"Were you with General Washington?" he asked.
Nathan Talbot threw back his head with a hearty
laugh, in which Owen joined, but seeing the boy's
embarrassment, his mirth ceased abruptly, and he
answered, "No. lad, I'm not quite 'old enough for
that; I was with General Grant." "And I. with Gen
eral Sherman, 'marching through Georgia,'," said
Owen, proudly. The strange names held no signifi
cance for Pierre. The Civil War was "farther over in
history" than Miss Sargent's little pupils had studied,
and his knowledge of the Father of his Country was
a recent acquisition. .
"There, Nate, I guess we've remembered all the
Irish comrades," said Owen, as he placed his last
wreath on Terence O'Brien's grave. "Poor Terence!
He was fighting next to roe at Gettysburg when a
minie ball struck him in the head, and he never knew
what hurt him."
"All these men are strangers to me I went from
Maine," answered Talbot, "in the old Nineteenth,
same regiment as Howe. We were at Gettysburg, too.
There weren't many Irish with us, but there was a
lot of 'em in the armv, and brave fighters, too. Well,
there's one Revolutionary soldier, over in the north-,
west comer and then we're through. JThe Daugh
ters have just put un a tablet for him. The menj
led the way and Pierre followed slowly. Were all
graves of the Irish, then? Were not the French
brave? or didn't they love this so beautiful country
enough to fight for it? He must ask. "Do you have
here no French to put flags above? Did we never for
the countrv fight?" he asked-
"French?" asked Talbot, turning around. No, you
folks wa'n't here then; there were French n the
South. Beauregard was, but I guess we didn t have
anv on our side." Pierre felt himself a foreigner
agr.in. No reflected glory shone upon him. This was
only the American's country, after all. Suddenly hi?
eye caught the name upon the tablet which marked
the resting-place of the solitary soldier of the Revo
lution. "Edouard Fortier" was the name on the shm
ing marble. The blood rushed to-Pierre's face, his
ic E!!i leaned with iov.
r r . - .
Owen ! he cried,
l 1 ' 1 -V 1 A Vl r. f St '
coiri;r of th Revolution. read lalbot.
" Tern in Paris, France, 1755". died in this city, 1S13
A brave soldier of the-Count de Rochambeau, be was
at Yo-ktown at the surrender of Lord Cornwalhs.
ric z's eyes danced. . -
"Then we zvcre brave, some of us French, he
cried triuir.phar.tJy. . , , .
"0 ves; tVrc were French n the RcvoIutn,
ai:l Talbct. -"Lafavette, and the Count bere. Ehc:i
ilor- can te'l you all about it. His folks were in
the War of Independence." "
odvwch BY. TUB. CEXIURV. COUP AS Y.
Howe and the others were waiting for them at the
cemetery gate, and Talbot took Pierre to IIov.c If
the walk up had been a triumphal progress to Pierre,
the walk home was ecstacy. Eben IIowc was the
third of the name. His grandfather, the first Ebcne
rer, was a "Minute man" in the Lexington Alarm; hi3
father, Ebenezer second, was a seaman under Cap
tain Hull, on the "Constitution," when she fought the
"Guerriere." He himself was the first private to en
list in his company, in the little Maine village which
was his birthplace, and-he served through the whole
Civil War. The fourth Ebenezer was under Roosevelt
at San Juan Hill, and received a word of commenda
tion from his colonel a fact of which his modest father
was more proud than of all his own faithful service.
Howe was a quiet man,, and a great reader of his
tory, and the story he told little Tierre on the long
walk home of Lafayette and de Rochambeau, of the
French troops, and the French money and sympathy,
all so freely furnished, made the chill supremely
happy. "I don't really think the war would have ended
when it did," said Howe, in conclusion; "at least wc
couldn't have taken .'orktown without. Rochambeau
on land, and DcGrassc aand DeBarras and their fleets
in the Chesapeake. And we Americans owe a lasting
debt of gratitude to the French and wc mustn't for
get it, for they helped make our country free." They
had reached the Michauds' home, and Pierre held out
his hand to Sergeant Howe with a grateful smile.
"Thank you," he said simply, "if my people helped
to free it, it my country is also, end if it ever needs
me I will fight, moi, aussi !"
Little Marie was it'.inj happily playing with her
doll, on the step beneath the gay flag. Across the
street fluttered the I'.tl'c flajs from the Italiia tene
ment house. The Sergeant locked aain at the pa
thetic product of unski'.!cd little fingers, then.it ihs
bright face by his. side. "Run into the house," lie
said, "ar.d tell your, mother I'm cominj in to see her."
Pierre obeyed, and IIowc turned to the men behind
him : .
"Boys," he said, ";i always seems as if these colors
were ours just ours. But when Utile French chil
dren think enough of tie flag to make one, it shows
us it's theirs, too. And lads like this one are go
ing to love it, and defend it, if there's need. Let's
help him alon a bit. They're poor, and his father's
"Right you are," said Henry Owen. "I'm glad to
help John; he's a good fellow, down on his luck."
"I rather guess we a!l want to hc!p," said Nathan
Talbot Whc:i IIowc turned ever his collection to
Mrs. Michaud, the little French woman looked the
gratitude she could rot express. And as IIowc joined
his comrades they all rr.:sed their hats again in sa
lute to the two happy Iiit!c children under the home
When Miss Sargent asked her little pupils how
many displayed a flag on Memorial Day, no hand went
up more proudly than Pierre Michaud's.
HE AND SHE.
By Virginia Woodward Cloud.
"Now, where are you going so fast, little maid?
Now, where are you going so socn ?"
"I'm going to be a great Queen, sir," she said,
"In the Land of the Silver Spocn !
I'm tired of spelling, cf chickens, of bees;
I'm tired of sewing a scam;. i '
So I'm going forever to do as I please,
And eat only peaches and cream!"
"And where arc you goin, "iv f-nc little man?
And where are you gcinj so fast?"
"Out on the sea, just cs quick as I can,
To stand at the front of a inast !
I'm tired of seven times four, sir," qucth he,
"And lessons are useless and eld;
An Admiral Pirate I'm going to be,
With a vessel of purple and geld!"
Then passed the folk busily early and late,
Till daylight grew red in the west.
And the queer bent man by the eld toll-gate
Sat him down on a stump to rest.
When up the long highway there suddenly sped
Two wanderers, hastening near;
And one he was hanc'nj a sorrowful head;
.And one she was schblnj with fear.
"Now, whither art coming, my dear liitlc maid?
Now, whither art ccmin? rroth he.
"Ob, straicbt heme to bed, 6i'r," she scbbingly said,
"And to get sorrc nice porridge and tea!
Fcr the roa 1 to the Fairy Ta!c Spocn, sir, I ween,
' It 13 hare'er than ever I"! t.M,
And wor'd you believe ii? l':crc isr't a queen
Who doesn't hnozj just ko-jj to sfcll!"
"And whither art coing, my f:"c little man?"
That funny eld rr.a:i r-rhc l:c.
"Oh, I'm zririZ ri!:t home," said the traveler sad,
"To tiucV a beel: on the sea!
Of purp!e -crd gchl I have fo::r.d not a speck.
But toilers with rope and with oar
Ar.d there isn't an ad::::rc iv:'.l:ing a deck
Who doesn' knozj sezen titr.es fourl"
THE SMART LITTLE BEAR.
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wmsmwm a im.
Teacher B ruin sa:cT, "Cub, bear in mind,
Licking ink from .your pen's not refined.
And eating blotting paper
, Is mother bad caper " '
"Not," said the Cub, "when I'm ink-lined."