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Tribute to the Brave
MAY AGAIN by Oney Fred Sweet ILACS iintl snowballs und poo oiea nodded In the yard between the sagging gate and the di lapidated porch. On the porch L •at nii old nan leaning on hts cane. Pant the gate swept a boy on roller skates. With r.a acrohntlc twirl, the boy swung away from the wulk, whisked through the gate and came to a stop In front of the old man on the porch. “You’ll be picking the flowers In the morning.’* the boy greeted with en thusiasm. “You always do. And you’ll ff>* hanging your flag out on the porch. Tomorrow —” “Yes. tomorrow is Decoration day,” mused the old man. “I don’t know whether mother’ll let me march or not,” went on the hoy. “She hntes to have me stand out In the hot so long.” lie balanced himself on the skates and glanced over his shoulder toward the Mg house across the street. “Standing In the hot sun wouldn’t stop me.” the old man answered as If speaking to some one far off. "hut these legs of mine— I sniil lust year It was my last. 1 was all played out before we got to the cemetery.” The hoy looked at the old man. his bands on his hips, his elbows crooked. "I think I’ll march anyhow," he con cluded suddenly. “I think It must have been great to have been a soldier. You can remember all those battles you were In and how you marched behind the flag. You can remember what you did for your country.” The old man stalled. "We’re old timers now. Tommy— worn out old timers with nothing much but those memories. And the weaker we get in the flesh and bones the atrooger those old memories come back. Ed Howse, he’s a worthless old crab In away, but he weurs the little bronze button on the lapel of his coat, and —well, I Just can’t tell you how I feel toward him. He was with a regi ment way off In another part of the country from me, but I know be went Cbrough It, too. or he wouldn’t be wearing the little bronze button. To morrow he’ll he marching up to the cemetery back of the band with the look In his eyes that deties the world CO aay he ain’t a boy ngnln. He will be a boy again. He’ll be back again ns lie ait when he fought for the flag!" The boy seated himself on the porch etepe. “Tre studied about It all In school." be puzzled, “but It all seems so long ago I don’t suppose there’ll be any more wars." “No.” agreed the old man. “When ere fought to save the Union I guess It Ap I shed up things pretty well so far m m this country Is concerned. And tfee old follows are dropping off so faat there won’t be any of ’em to asaicli bat to the cemetery soon. They’ll nil be sleeping out there. When you think of ’em, you’ll only remember the years when they offered themselves to a great big, good cause and you’ll for get the faults they had." The boy’s face clouded with thought. "If I come over early In the morn ing," ho asked, “will you let me hake the flowers you’ve always carried up there yourself? I’ll see that they get to a flag-marked grave.” "You bet I will," stalled the old man. "I’ll cut ’em for you In the morning. They bloom this way Just for Decora tion day. You can’t tell me that they don’t know that they’re for soldier graves." • •••••• Lilacs and snowballs and peonies nodded between the sagging gnte and the dilapidated porch. On the porch sat an old man leaning on his enne. and at the gate approached n buoyant youth In a belted coat, tight-fitting trousers and n long-peuked cap. “Good morning!” The old man strained his eyes. "Good morning. Tommy. I was look ing for you.” "You’ve got out the old flng on the porch.” the youth smiled. “You haven’t “You'll Be Picking the Flower# in the Morning." forgotten that it’s Decoration day, but I guess I’ll have to cut the flowers my self this morning." The old man shook his head. “Nope, I’ll cut ’em for you,” he In sisted. "I’ve done It these ten years that you’ve come along. I was Just waiting for a little —a little breath. You’re gettiug to be a big fellow. Tom my." The youth began to help the old man down the puth. “You were wrong about wars being nt an end.” he said finally. "Things are pretty lively In the old country.” "Yes. yes, over there,” admitted the old man. “I don’t know where our muzzle loaders would come In with those machine guns and airplanes and gas. But we’re clear on this side of the water. They’ll be mighty careful not to tread on our rights. The old flng never touched the ground nnd the Germans know it. They’ll be care ful not to rile Uncle Sam.” “1 guess you're fight," the youth re sponded with tightened lips. "They know the old flag’ll never touch the ground, or they better know It. You sit down now and take It easy. The pro cession’s almost here. I’ll Just follow along. I’m out of school now, but I’ll see that the flowers get where they be long." • •••••• Lilac* and snowballs and peonies nodded In the yard between the sag ging gate and the dilapidated porch. On the porch sat an old man leaning on his cone. THE ELK MOUNTAIN PILOT. In n few days now the flng would flutter from the porch. The sky would seem a bluer blue, the birds sing with peculiar sweetness. Heaven would seem pretty close to eurth. It would be Decoration day! The morning breeze would catch the folds of the flag on the porch and cause the red. white, and blue to spar kle anew In the sunshine. The music of the band would grow fainter. Every year It had been the same. The robins chirping In the evergreens nnd the Insects setting up a chorus in the close-cut blue grass of the cemetery with its quiet suddenly Invaded by the town. The voices of the quartet carried off over the prairie by the breeze. The address. The school children heaping their blood roots nnd violets and honeysuckles above the flag-marked graves. Ed Howse had limped In at the sag ging gate and was making hts way as host he could up the path to the porch. Ed pushed back his slouch felt hat and with an effort seated lilmself below the old man leaning on his cane. “Well, It’ll be Decoration day la a few days," he panted. "I’m going to try to make the inarch once more.” The old man on the porch nodded. “My hearln’s gettin’ pretty bad. I don’t suppose I’ll be able to hear much that the speaker says,” Ed went on. "I won’t know whether he’s talkin’ about the way we held our ground at Gettysburg or that fight around Amiens to hold back Hlndenburg. D— —n those Huns, do they think they can spoil all us old fellows fought for?” "The old flng never touched the ground,” answered the old man. "If I was fifty years younger,” quavered Ed. “We’ve got ’em fifty years younger, don’t worry,” nodded the old man grim ly. “The old flag’ll never touch the ground.” "Never saw your lilacs look finer,” Ed remarked. “ ’Pears as if they looked nicer thnn I ever see ’em." The mnn leaning on the cane cleared bis. throat. He glanced toward the gate —the gate where— " They ain’t going to be. cut this year,” he said* finally. “They hnow he’ll never come after ’em again. Those lilacs and snowballs and peo nies have got to carry their fragrance a long way on Decoration day this “Somewhere In France." year. They know what they’ve bloomed for every May. They know this year better than ever. The breeze that nods ’em Is going to do Its part.- There’s nothing going to stop their fragrance being carried clear across the land we love, across the ocean we're going to keep free, over to his grave ’some where in Franca.'**—Chicago Tribune. The Nation’s Toast la the Hour of Victory GEORGE MORROW MAYO In tht Marietta ( Ga .) Booatmr HERE'S to the blue of the wind-*wept North. When we meet on the fields of France, •lay the spirit of Grant be with you all As the Sons of die North advancel Here's to the gray of the sun-kissed South When we meet on the fields of France: •lay the spirit of Lee be widi you all As die Sons of die South advancel Here's to die Blue and the Gray as Onel When we meet on the fields of France, •lay the spirit of God be with us all As the Sons of die Flag advancel ALL ENMITY ENDED Brave Men Forgot Everything Except Their Former Friendship. ISCUSSING a G. A. R. pa | ratio, Secretary Daniels re ' lated an interesting story of Lieutenant Commander James D E. Jouett (afterward admiral), and his friend, Peter Umstead Murphy of the Confederate navy. Jouett commanded the U. S. S. Metacomet ot the battle >f Mobile Bay, and Murphy commanded the Confederate guuboat Selma, which was captured after a hard fight by the kfetacoinet. Murphy has been a lieutenant in the United States navy, and had resigned to fight on the Confederate side. In the old days, before the war, Murphy, then a lieutenant, had been very kind to Jouett. then a midshipman. Two Jays before the battle of Motile Bay. so the story runs, Jouett, while ut Pen sacola, remembering that Murphy was fond of good eating, bought a quantity of crabs and oysters and other delica cies nnd placed them on Ice. Three Confederate gunboats, including the Selnm, Murphy’s ship, were then lying under Fort Morgan, nnd Jouett, know ing that Murphy commanded them, told the officers that he was fond of "Pete Murphy," as he was called, and hoped to catch him, and he always kept ’on hand some good wines nnd clgnrs for him. It happened as Jouett had hoped. The Metacomet was order ed by Farragut to pursue the Selnm, and Jouett did catch Murphy. When the fight was over, Jouett ordered his As Though They Had Never Been Bworn Enemies. steward to prepnre a breakfast. When the Selma had struck her colors, Mur phy, his right arm in a sling from a wound received In the battle, came aboard the Metacomet to surrender his sword. Jouett had sent the crew forward. In order that Murphy might he spared any unnecessary mortification, nnd only two officers were at the gangway with Jouett to receive Murphy. Mur phy came up the gangway, drew him self to his full height, held out his sword nnd began a speech, but Jouett took his hand, put his arm around his shoulder nnd snld: "I am glad to see you, Murphy. Come below; your break fast has been waiting some time.” When they reached the cabin, Mur phy saw a beautiful table laden with oysters, crabs, beefsteaks, wines, etc. Turning to Jouett in astonishment, he said: “Why didn’t you let me know you had all this? I would have sur rendered sooner.” And the officers sat down at the table as though they had never drawn swords against each other. OUR MARTYRED DEAD. UR martyred dead: On each low bed. \ Green be the chaplet, f Fresh the roses; A Oh, lightly rest. 7 On each calm breast, » The turf where each In peace reposes. Hall, hero shades! « Your battle blades A wall of steel irtSSI |Y// lilt V P A wan or sieei Our homes surrounded: Your deels have won. From sire to son. Love, Joy and gratitude Unbounded. No marble cold May guard your mould. But living hearts. Around, are swelling: Each dating deed 8hall gain the meed Of praise from all hearts Richly flowing. Your sacred dust Be the choice trust Of Freedom’s grateful Sons and daughters; While future days Your fame shall raise. From Atlantic’s To Pacific waters. .Rev. Mark Traftoo. From "Beacon tJghf of patriotism." (Satisfaction for the | sweet tooth. I , Aid to appetite and i 1 digestion benefit I 1 and enjoyment In | | LASTING form. 1 SAnd only 5 cents 1 a package. | pjS Subtlety wins but wisdom holds. GREEN’S AUGUST FLOWER has been a household remedy all over the civilized world for more than half • century for constipation, intestinal troubles, torpid liver and the generally depressed feeling that accompanies such disorders. It Is s most valuable remedy for Indigestion or nervous dys pepsia and liver trouble, bringing on headache, coming up of food, palpita tion of heart, and many other symp toms. A few doses of August Flower will relieve you. It Is a gentle laxa tive. Ask your druggist. Sold In all civilised countries.—Adv. Keeping It Up. A maid servant applied for a week end off, as her home was distant, for the purpose of being at home on her parents' stiver wedding day. The leave was granted, and the maid returned. “Well,” said her mistress, “did every thing go off satisfactory?” “Oh, yes, thank you, ma’am,” said the girl, “and mother told me to say she Is very grateful to you for letting me off.” “And what did your father suy?" asked the lady. “Oh, lor! ma’am,” replied the girL “he wasn’t there. He’s been dead tills 20 years.” That Friend! “Mother doesn’t think she’ll go to the theater with us tonight, Albert.” ‘‘Is that so? I have got tickets. What shall I do with the third one?” “Give It to the man you alwuys go out to see between the acts. He can sit with us and you won’t have to go out and see hlm.“ Complimentary to Him. He —But I asked you, dearest, to keep our engagement a secret for the present. She —I couldn’t help it. That hateful Miss Oldum said the reason I wasn’t married was because no fool had pro posed to me. so I up and told her you had.—Brooklyn Citizen. j Breakfast Is Ready I when you have J ja package of Grape-Nuts | for blend T of I wheat GJsarieyUs ready- t I cookedr~^^ I * Not a?BitYof*waste: I 4 Usable to the 1 last crumb 0 9 Usual price 15$ per package. || Cuticura Stops JP Itching and Saves the Hair^ RUOLU lOIBMi 11, P. fafc Mystery Explained. He stood amid the blaze and splen dor of his magnificent mansion, and In his hand he held the portrait of a beautiful woman. His face was pale and haggard, and his lips moved con vulsively. What was this mystery. Was this the picture of his departed wife? No. Was It the portrait of his dead but dearly remembered daughter. No. What, then, was the cause of him haggard face? Was It not the same portrait that two minutes ago had fallen from its nail, and raised a lump as big as u hen's egg on his head? It was. A Diagnosis. “Oh, doctor," said a worried looking agrarian, "My wife is in an awful con dition ! From a medium fgt woman sha has been reduced to skin and bones. She talks incessantly in a loud squawk ing voice, begins a sentence and never finishes it, und Jumps from subject to subject without uttering anything that has the least sense to It,” “H’m! I see!” returned the physl cion. “Go home, Mr. Gabbleby, and out your party line telephone at once. Your wife has been listening in on It too much.” —Kansus City Star. Lots of people make fortunes out of , other people’s curiosities.