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I, ,0 GOODWIN'S WEEKLY B , Coming HI Si C. C. Goodwin. H. ll The heroes are coming tomorrow: HK . AttonLIon! Baro every head! Hi Tlieir flags are all tattered and faded, In And feeble, and halting their tread. HUJ They fought when foes were before them, HI On many a terrible day, H But who can beat back the wasting years Hb . Or ward off their sure decay? H ' ' In the flush of their youth, when before H '. them H I Life was a dream of delight, H . v When the days wero an anthem of pleasure H I And music made joyous the night, H Even then to their ears came a message, H ; ' "Lo! Native land is assailed, H ' A fort has been battered and riven, f The flag in the dust has been trailed." ' The echoes that sounded from Sumter, H ,- Smote men like a blow in the face, i The sin of it all and the horror, H The shame and the burning disgrace, H 'Twas then the long roll was sounded, H A call to the true and the brave, H To take to that path which would lead them, H Up to glory or down to the grave. I ft Before a hurricane's coming, H' The air grows oppressive and still, H And the sea birds around their eyries, H With cries discordant and shrill, H Wheel round and round in tlieir unrest, H For they know a tempest is nigh, H They know by the stillness uncanny j By the portends of earth and of sky B But high on his crags the sea eagle, B Looks out on the ominous haze, B In anger, his plumage half ruffled, B . His fearless eyes all ablaze, And when, with the in-rolling billows, I Sounds the first low menacing wail Of the storm that is nearing the seashore The sea-beating, shore-shaking gale He poises his lordly pinions And swoops down the tempest to brave, !And mingles his screams of defiance With the clamors of wind and of wave; For his homo In the crags Is his own, m His eaglets are nested there, H) And for that rude home and it's safety Hi ' He is ready all dangers to dare. B Sweethearts and wives and mothers, B Paled when that message was read, Visions of heartbreaking partings, Of battlefields strewn with the dead, B Of hopes that were sweeter than heaven, By the fierce sword of battle cleft; Bf Of homes dismembered, and children fll Of fathers and brothers bereft, 1 1 Of wives left alone with their burdens, Of sorrows the land to flood; Bf And that the cud bo put aside I Was their p. yer to the Infinite God. B But the more that message was pondered, More grave grew the faces of men, The shame and the sin and the menace Made clear the demand upon them; B In a day youth put by its follies, Bl In a night beardless boys became men, 1 Bi B' Then the long roll of drums became music, To trumpet calls men said "Amen." Why tell of the partings, the farewells, The marching, the camp life, until Up from the valley of shadows, Came the blaze of real war, and the peal Of the roar, the lightnings and thunders, The war's pestiferous breath. On the land and the sea the struggle, The mighty harvest of death, The conflict waging for months and years, The tread of that wine-press of wrath Till states lay prostrate and severed As through them was mowed that path. High names were carved out by heroes: On the immortal height They are written now where the ages Can never obscure their light. But the loving hearts that were broken, The brave hearts that ceased to beat, Who can recount the grim story Or half its sorrows repeat? Till the whole land was draped in mourning, And tears like spring rains were shed By mothers whose hearts were broken, For their children, like Rachael's, were dead. Until Peace like a benison came, And the land, though smitten and torn, Had gained new renown and new power By the mighty ordeal it had borne, And our flag among the nations A higher sov'reignty bore; The symbol of a power sublime A statelier splendor wore, For in the fiery trial Freedom had won and right, And on our land, and on the world Had dawned a holier light. And the heroes who answered "Aye" When the call for the sacrifice came, Those who were left from the carnage From the red war's consuming flame, Unspoiled, to the home roofs returned And round the home altars singing, Merged back in the ianks of Peace, A loftier manhood bringing. And now the few who still linger Of all that sublime array, Are coining to do us the honor Of halting their march for a day, In our midst a campfire to light, And once more the past to recall Of that struggle they made for the right When native land hung in the scale. They are coming, tho heroes, tomorrow, Attention! bare every head! Their flags are all tattered and faded And feeble and halting their tread. 'Tis for--us to give them warm welcome, To steady tlieir faltering feet, To give thorn a welcome, that all their lives Will to theih be a memory sweet For under the shadows of death They marched, our country to save; The best we can do, will be little They are marching now to ihe grave. (Continued from Pago 8) announces Joseph Hart's "Futurity Winner," a -one-act racing drama, James Thornton in "Songs and Sayings," the Camille Trio, European bar (horizontal) artists, The Worthleys in a sketch called "On The Beach," Martini and Maximilian in eccentric comedy, Gladys Clark and Henry Berg man in "The Chauffeur and the Maid," and the Kemps in "Going to Dahomey." kt i t 'FAIR ROUGH RIDER WILL APPEAR. "No, I'm just a cow-girl, and you can't have my picture to run in any society paper," said Miss Loye Roseberry, of Fort Worth, Texas, who 1 participate in the Wild West show, which is to take place at the Fair Grounds next week. Miss Roseberry is the champion lady rider of Texas, though only seventeen years old, and i weighing but a hundred and twenty pounds. fl "I'm not afraid of being beaten by those wo- r Abbolt and Minthorne Woithley at the Orpheum. j men riders from Wyoming and Colorado," said l Miss Roseberry. I have ridden all kind of horses in my day, and even if I'm not so old, that day is a rather long ono when you consider that 1 have been riding since I was five years old. I understand that this is to be the greatest Wi West show that has ever happened in the West. That is the reason that I have come so far to participate. I said a little while ago that I was only just a cow-girl, but really I was joshing then. As a matter of fact, I am an all 'round ath lete. Feel this muscle. Isn't that great? I got somo of that playing golf. Then, too, I am sup posed to be a pretty good musician, and have re ceived some tempting offers to go upon the vaude ville stago, but my parents don't like the Idea very well. Anyway, I llkjo this wild, open life tho best. I'll just yell my head off during the four-day tournament at the Fair Grounds next week. Really, don't you think that it's the grand est sight on earth to see a lot of fearless cow boys tearing up thp earth on a bunch of bucking broncos? For real sport that has anything that I know of beaten a mile."