Established By Wm. Need, 1870, VOLUME XLIV. Notin* to (Vnlitors. Till-? is to Rive notice that the sn seribera have obtained from th 1 0: j>li i Court of Frederick county, Md., letter testamentary on the estate of SARAH E SAYLER, d ceased. All persons having claim against the estate of said deceisei a hereby warned to exhibit 'he same w‘i the voucher thereof legally autheiiuca'- to the subscribers on or 0 'for; H teem her 12. 1914, they in ly olh -r vise he eluded from all bmeli .sot sa d esta e Al persons indebted to said estate a ■ hereby warned to make immediate p y rnent. Given under our hand this 11th dry May, 1914. anna e weybright, SADIE L. BOERNER, may 14 5t Execulri.e- Fii 10 UK KICK RAILROAD Thurmoiit Division Schedule In Erie t April 15, 1914. All tra ns D lily unless specified Leave Frederick Arrive Thu-mon! 5.00 a.' m fi *o a - 1,1 7.61 a. h. 16 a. m HI, 10 a. 16 : ’6 a. n. 10.4 1 a. in 11 61 a. n 1. 59 p m 2.1b p n 4.10 p. 45Jp. n . 45i p. m o : j'i p. i> 6. 10 ii. in 656 p f-'.6)p. m. Sunday Only 9.17 p. in lu.uT p. m 10 48 p. i> Leave Thurm >nt. Arrive Frederi 6.1 D a. in •••• •’ •>* a -8.25 a. 9 08 a. in 11.55 a. 12.68 a. n . 2.20 ]i. 6 92 p. i* . 5.10 p 5 55 p tr. 6.15 p. 60>9 p n . 7.(5 p. m 7.49 p i . 925|) m Sunday Only K> 05 p n 11.00 p. in U .41 p. ti Nate All tr.ins a 'rivin r an I leavin T.mrm >nt scha luted from Western Mary lan 1 st i d >n Note All trains arriving an) leaving Frederick scheduled from Square. Western Maryland R. K. Schedule In Effect April 15, 1914 GOING WEST, v *> £ ~ v o § •.„ J- 5- & ?.= ?E -cS -c| -c.S Z v o £ > £ >u > C > £ cfl y ? 44 : w U >-•- j be - i J 22 <& •J H •8.25 am 2.28 am 5,05 am 6.05 am B.loam •7.00 8.20 10.60 $7.15 10.15 3.16 5.45pm •B.oopm 1.27pm 3.50pm 5.11pm 7.05 •4.15 5.42 8.27 •Daily. sDaily except Sunday. sSunday Only. OVER 66 YEARS EXP ERI EN C E Trade Marks Designs ' Copyrights Ac. Anyone fending a aketrh and description inn i quli-itly aacerthim our opinion free whether i. invention If prohnUy puieniahla. C omniimli* } Mtiiif Htrlctlycomment hi). HANDBOOK onl'aienti Bent free. Oldest agency for fecuruig patents. I‘utenta taken through Muim A C o. recelv tperial notice, without cbnriro, In the Scientific American. A handiomplr ll'n.lrnl ,y' ... om f -c-V v ‘ / B f f Sleep on, brave hearts, and taKe your rest, A hundred million strong and free Shall guard in each heroic breast ii Your pure and priceless legacy. i |i| Twas not in vain, O noble band, mm If Your blood imbued Columbia’s sod, W United now her children stand — i J One flag, one country, and one God. IP \ i | /sft&'y' '-Li ? // \ y - 4 'V' ' ] K OV'0 V ' ' ; J §s■- OOGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCO Memorial Day from the Lighter Side By S. E. KISER 00000000000000000000000000 IN HIS WAY. “Never forget, my child," said Ihe millionaire, “that your grandfather was a hero.” "What did grandfather do to become a hero?" “He fought for three years In the greatest war the world has ever seen.” “Was ho a general?” "No.” "A colonel?” "No." “A captain?” “No, he was a private soldier, but you must not forget that one who fights In the ranks may be as great a hero as the highest officer.” "Was grandfather as great as you i are?” "Oh, no, be wasn’t as great as 1 A Family Newspaper- Independent in Politics—Devoted to Literature, Local and General Nows. THURMONT, FREDERICK COUNTY, MD., THURSDAY, MAY 28, 1914. am. You see people can read my name on the billboards all over our broad land; but in his way he was a good deal of a man." ambition. “Well, my little man," said the preacher as he patted the boy on the head, "I hope you are going to grow up to be a good and patriotic man. Look at those heroes marching past. There can be no greater earthly glory than they have won. 1 hope we may never have another war, but If we do, I am sure you will be ready to light for your country. Don’t you wish that you may, when you are an old man, be loved and honored as those brave old men who are inarch ing past are loved and honored?" "Oh, no, 1 don’t want to be like them. Pa says it pays lots better to do something that will make every body talk about you so you can go out lecturing about It." ONE KIND. "Pa, what is a paradox?" "A paradox, my child, Is a politician making a Memorial day address with out using the occasion to try to fur ther his political interests.” AA A AM.AJk GENEROSITY. “Why do we have Memorial day?" asked the teacher. "I know.” said Willie. “Please let us hear your explana tion.” "So the men that own automobiles cau show that they are not too proutj to let the old soldiers ride In them, even If they are all dusty." THE MODERN IDEA. "Dearest." he said, “will you go with me to the cemetery to scatter flowers on the graves of the heroes?" "Oh, 1 don’t like to go to ceme teries. They are so depressing.” "Very well. We might go (or a nice long drive Into the country. All nature is at Its best now." “Why do you suggest such stupid things? Can’t we go to an automo bile race or something where there will be a chance that somebody will be smashed up? I want to be thrilled.” HIS MADDEST, MERRIEST DAY. If you're waking call me early, call me early, mother, dear; Tomorrow'll be the gladdest day of all this glorious year. The maddest, merriest day, mother, that I may ever see, So knock upon my door, mother, until you waken me. I've oiled my motorcycle—lt will be a holiday— I’ll make It hot for chickens that Unger In my way ; 1 may run over children or old people. mother dear, But It will bo the greatest day that we have had this year. Let others hour the speeches the orator* shall make, Hut I’ll be smashing records—l’ve thrown away my brake; So call mo early, mother: let me eat and get away To help to spread the terrors that mar Memorial day. Day sfk)iy (Copyright, by Dally Story i*ub. Co.) fHE lonely grave down In the southwest corner was heaped over with red roses and white lilies that rose In a glowing, fragrant, raptur ous mass of concentrated lire and snow. The girl who bent over It to place one last white blossom on the glorious pile seemed afar from the world by her rapt devotion to tbe lone grave. She had never seen the soldier who had gone to rest from the battle un der the green-sodded mound encircled by the arbor vitae, yet she could not remember a time when she had not put flowers each year over the un known dead. Through her childhood she had come with her mother, who had saved tbe most beautiful roses and lilies In the garden to deck that grave when flower day should come. Now she came alone, more us a memorial to her lost and gone mother than In any fancied remembrance of the dead soldier. Every 30th of May they had thus decked his grave, though when Elsie could Just remember there had been no public celebration of the day. "It is the day he died," said her mother once when she had gloried lu the beauty of the May that was dying in supernatural light. "He was killed in battle?" she had asked, looking back at tbe grave where a glint of sunlight drafting through the trees fell across the rose and snow piled above It. There was an instant's pause and then tbe reply sof'-ly spoken; “Ves, the hardest battle man ever fought." That was years ago and now Uie whole nation had chosen the day of this man's death as the time for re membering with outward observance the heroic dead. “In sacred memory of a soldier of the South," was the Inscription on the marble slab at the bead. Nothing to show to what southern hearts he bad been dear lu the olden days of Are and storm, nor what had been his rank in that devoted army that had sealed Its faith with the blood red seal. There were other soldiers of the South sleeping on that hillside at peace with the soldiers of the North who shared their spacious grounds Rosemont had been near tbe line In war days and they who wore the gray and they who wore the blue had come back to their home to the beat of muffled drums and gone to rest side Conveyed Her Last Farewell to the Unknown Dead. by side, with never a vestige of bat tle rage burning in their still hearts. "Why Is not his name there?" she had asked her mother on the first day she could remember In her childhood when she had stood beside the mound and put a glowing red rose at Its head with a little hand that was hidden by the great crimson blossom. “I think he would have wished It so,” was the reply In a low tone that left no room tor further questioning. As she went out by the pathway through the circle of green a young man, meeting her. took off his hat and bowed, the sun striking gold sparkles from his hair as he bent his uncov ered head before her. A soft color swept over her face as she returned Ills greeting. They walked together between long lines of mounds with lit tle stones at their heads, each with a name that belonged to the village rec ords and had a distinctive place in the village heart. Thus they went silently until they came to a monu ment that far overtopped all the other stones In those consecrated grounds. They looked at the marble shaft with Its head lifted high against the golden light. The name it bore was of one who belonged to the world and to history. He seemed far away in some lofty region from which he sent no Individual appeal to their hearts. Alan floldwin looked from the cold white marble to the girl at his side. What a vivid gleam of light she was among tho graves. "My Quest among the graves has a sad object," he said. "My father Is buried somewhere, 1 know not where. In an unknown grave. He used to live here when he was a youth. He went to a southern state and when the war began he enlisted in Lee's army.” "He was killed in battle?" "No, not in battle. He lies in what the world might call a dishonored They Looked at the Marble Slab. grave, but It is not dishonored, for It covers as noble a heart as ever beat. He was shot by order of his command ing officer, but I know he was never guilty of any wrong.” She looked up at him with eyea shining with tears. "I am sure of that,” she said. He turned Insistent eyes toward her and his voice was low and tense with feeling. "You know why I tell you this?" Yes, she knew. It was like that frank honor that looked out from hia eyes to tell her whatever there might be In hia history that would seem clouded. "The camp was attacked Immedi ately after and it was all the living could do to save themselves. The dead were left to bury their dead.” They stood for a long time in si lence with their eyes fixed on the marble shaft that bore the name great before tho world. Hut they did not see the monument or the name. They only saw a lonely grave somewhere with no shaft to mark Its place afid no name to show whose loved one had been glorified with tho chrism of death Alone In her room that afternoon Elsie remembered what day It was for her. "My birthday,” she said. "I am twenty and tho war has been over twenty years. Today I was to know the story of the unnamed grave.” She opened her trunk and took from it a silver casket, which she unlocked with a gold key. In It was a folded manuscript that she held a moment reverently In her hands. Her mother's hands were the last to touch It, when she put It away In the casket to bu read on the twentieth birthday. At last she opened it and read; "When my child is twenty I want her to know the sad story of Alan Gold win. I am writing It down that sho may read It for herself should I not bo here to tell It. ‘1 suppose a girl never knows why she prefers one man to another; that is. If she really loves him. Almost anyone might say that Alan was liner than Will Melwood and better adapted to win admiration and confidence. Hut these, Important os they are, are not exactly love. Alan remained my friend, but soon after my marriage he went South and a few years later I heard that he was married. “When the war began our people were about equally divided in senti ment between North and South. Will joined the Union army. In a skirmish one day he was taken prisoner and confined in a tent to await transpor tation to Libby prison next day. A a night fell a sense of loneliness en veloped him In darkness. He had ex pected to be killed in battle and was prepared to die for his Hag as is a soldier's duty. A dash on to the field, a hand-to-hand struggle, sudden dark ness—that was a soldier’s death. "Suddenly the door opened and the sentinel stood before the prisoner, who turned toward him. wondering why he Terms SI.OO in Advance NO. 11. ©HIS DAY is Sacred to the groat heroic host who kept this flag above our heads— sacred to the living and the dead, —sacred to the scarred and maimed sacred to the wives who gave their husbands, to the mothers who gave their sons. Here in this peaceful land of ours—here where the sun sh'nes, where flowers grow, where chil dren play, millions of armed men battled for the right and breasted on a thousand fields the iron storms of war. These brave, these incomparable men found ed the first Republic. They ful filled the prophecies, they brought ! to pass the dreams, they real ized the hopes, that al I the g: eat and good and wise andy ot have made and had' since man was man. But what of those who full? There is no language to express the debt we owe, the love we bear, to all the dead who died for us. Words are but bar ren sounds. We can but stand beside their graves and in the hush andsilence feel whatspeech has never told.— From t!e Memor ial Day AJJress, Neiv York, ISS2, by Robert G. Ingerso//, hud come. Was he to start tonight ou that long Journey to tho tomb? ” ‘Will Melwood. don’t you know me?’ ”'Alan Gold win!’ “For a moment they stood silent with clasped hands. Then Alan un wrapped a parcel he carried under hia arm and displayed a ragged, discol ored suit of brown clothes. ” 'lt makes no difference what kind of clothes you wear, so they cover up your colors. Our uniform is more dis tinguished for ununiformity now than anything else.’ ” ’What are you going to do with 11. e?" "T am going to save you for —her.* "He it d Will from tho tent to a little pathway through a chimp of trees. "'Hut you—what will happen to you?’ '"Nothing. Remember only that you are going to her.’ "He turned buck and Will went down the path and was picked up the n-'Xt morning by a detachment of his own regiment and taken by a circuit ous route unknown to him back to the camp from which he had escaped. The Confederates, outnumbered, re treated, leaving a dead man lying near the teat where Will had been confined the night before. Bonding over him V ill recognized the face of Alan Gold win. "‘Wo have killed my best friend!’ “ ‘No, you nebber,’ said a negro, who came up from the little belt of trees, evidently a camp follower of neutral i I Jit /Iran At Last She Opened It and Read. sentiments. T was hyeah w'eu he wua shot by his own kunnel's order ’kase lu helped a pris’ner ter ’scape.’ "Will got permission to send hia dt ad friend to his old home and on his grave tho most beautiful lilies and ro ;es from our garden have spent their sv eotness on the anniversary ot hia d* ath.” Elsie walked to the window and looked out through a mist of tears that dimmed the golden wine of the ru a that was poured In a radiant flood over the world. Alan Goldwin! That was tho name of the young man whose quest was among graves—that man who would not say in words what his eyes had told her. Sho saw him coming down the lane toward her little gate. She went to meet him, holding out her hands. "I will show you where he lies,” she said, looking up with shining eyes. He followed her, not comprehending her meaning; knowing only that tho warmth of the sunlight and the bloom of the May roses had entered his heart