The Yale expositor., May 28, 1914, Image 2

About The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current

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THE YALE EXPOSITOR. THURSDAY. MAY 28. 1914.
"tier "8ps
HOPE OF THE NATION IS IN ITS YOUTH
By THE RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP SAMUEL FALLOWS,
: THE UNDERSTANDING :
hi mil ii i fs.
By BLANCHE G. ROBBINS. Z
ana His
'ANET ROLFES dark eyes
flush overspread her cheeks and Harley Worthlngton realized at
once that he had made a blunder.
They had known each other less than a month, but the few
lj.' Wry:-k weens uiui usiu yusaeu piuub
rW$$L wasted by them. Daily they
by side or raced up and down tho hills in Worthington's roadster,
and by clever management upon the part of somebody they found
themselves together every evening. Harley Worthington's friends
, looked on with much concern. He had neglected his work and
Imanaged to get himself so deeply in love that to him nothing seemed worth
fwhile if Janet happened to be where he could not see or hear her.
But she had a reputation! No. no! She was not a woman with a past
not that. She was merely a flirt at leaBt that was a common supposition
:among those who knew her. , There were certain heart-broken men wander
III
i
"I'm Talking to You as You Ought to
Be Talked To."
jl like you too well to stand aside without protesting while you are getting
jready to have your heart broken."
j But when did a man ever listen to his sister-in-law if a beautiful girl
jhappened to be beckoning to him?
One day when they had ridden out beyond the limits of the city and
(into the pleasant countryside they halted their horses beneath a wild crab
(apple tree at the edge of a cemetery. While Harley was breaking off a
(blossoming bough Janet gazed curiously at a number of gravestones which
rwere set in even rows and which all seemed to be exactly alike.
"Tomorrow is Decoration day, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes. Tomorrow all those graves will be covered with flowers.
"I ought to be at home tomorrow," she said, with a little sigh. "There
a grave in the South that I have always decorated. My grandfather was
the Civil war."
"And my grandfather's grave is there," he answered. "It is the third fca
tin
e second row from the right I suppose your grandfather was in the Con-
(federate army?"
i "Yes." V
I "Well, there were good men on that side, too.
"The best men that ever lived were on that side."
"I can't agree with you there. Some of the best men that ever lived
were on both sides."
"The war would never have ended as it did if the South could have put
as many men in the field aa the North did. You know that very well,"
"Let us not get into an argument over that question now. The war is
all over. We can both be proud of our ancestors who took part in it I am
ready to admit that your grandfather was brave aDd high-minded. He fought
;for what he thought was right If he
was misiaKen it was unroriunaie, dui
lit does not lessen his heroism in the
least. I honor him for doing what he
-considered his duty."
"Oh, please don't say any more
about that You northern people are
always patronizing us by telling us
how brave and how noble you con
sider our soldiers to have been. It is
merely another way of telling us that
you are ready to forgive us for being
crushed. I have heard it so often
that I hate it."
They rode on for a mile or two
in Bilence. Suddenly Janet turned her
horse, saying:
"Let us go back. I don't want to
ride any more today."
"I'm sorry we came out this
way," Harley replied. "There are
Borne blossoms. May I get some of
:them for you."
'Leave them where they are,
ishe answered. "I shall never lika crabapple blossoms again."
He experienced a feeling that he had never been conscious of before.
lt seemed to him that the glory of the day had suddenly vanished. He knew
.in that moment that he could never be happy again without her.
"If I have said anything I ought not to have said, please forgige me,"
.he begged. "Promise me that you will not go away. Janet, I love you.
Can't you see that I do?"
"And I hate you," she answered. "I never want to see you again. Will
you please ride on? I prefer to return alone."
Harley Worthlngton passed a sleepless night, and Memorial day found
him in the depths of hopelessness. He had no desire to participate in any
of the usual ceremonies. Shutting himself in his room, he refused to see
anyone or to seek forgetfulness in diversion. He could think of nothing but
Janet Rolfe and he conjured up a thousand fancies concerning her, all of
them leading to the conclusion that she had merely availed herself of the
; first excuse that presented Itself to get rid of him.
At last his hopelessness turned to anger, and late in the afternoon he
got his horse. He had no idea, as he galloped along, where he was going,
lie did not care.
The sun was low in the west when he drew up beneath the crab
apple tree beside tho cemetery where he and Janet had paused the day be
fore. A horse was tethered there. Suddenly he realized that It was the
horse Janet had been in the habit of riding. He looked Into the cemetery at
the freshly decorated graves, and there he saw her, standing beside the third
in the second row from the right She was In the act of placing a wreath
upon it.
Jn a moment he was at her side.
"Janet," he said, taking her in bis arms, "you are not going away?"
"No, dear," the replied, "not until you and I go away together." '
They started back toward the city. When they reached the place where
the road branched Harley asked:
"Shall we part here again r
"I think,' she answered, "the North and the 8cm th' can trait themselves
to travel together on one road, liter this.'
fE.KSe?
blazed with sudden anger. A deep
iueir urci. uiccuug uw uvi. uccu
had either ridden their horses side
ing upon the face of the earth and
vowing that they could never forgive
her. She may not have been to
blame for their sorrowful plight If
tney- ,a Ins2lte( on fa,1InS in love
with her" that certainly did not place
her under an obligation to return
their love. At least that was the
opinion she held, and she may have
been right
And now Harley Worthlngton was
well started upon the way that must
lead to madness. His sister-in-law
had warned him early.
"Don't do it, Harley," Elizabeth
Worthlngton had begged. "I know
she is the prettiest girl in the world,
and I know she has no intention of
breaking your heart She is Just anx
ious to have a good time. She prob
ably likes to be with you, and she
may admire you but, Harley, stop
where you are. I'm talking to you aa
you ought to be talked to, not because
I enjoy it. but because it's my duty.
"I Never Want to See You Again."
V U fit A '-vWv ' n
W '? . ff
IN OUR common schools we have net only the nurseries, but the real West
Points and Fort Leaven worths of the Republic. From theme is to come the
ever-flowing stream of our fresh young soldiery, who shall maintain the
integrity and glory of the nation.
In more than 250,000 buildings they gather in the rude log hut or primi
tive "shack" of the remote frontier and in the costly and commodious struc
tures which we rear in the crowded city. Many thousand officers of the Field
and Staff and Line marshal and guide day by day 16,000,000 of these Juvenile
warrior the Infantry, cavalry and artillery of our homes.
. It is upon the intelligence and morality and loyalty of the American citizen
that the institutions of our country rest "broad-based upon the people's wilL"
Give our common school system to Mexico. Educate their children as we
are trailing ours. Break up their great landed estates into small farms and
let the common people own and till them, and barbarous Mexico would be
wiped from the map of the world.
N American must re
call brave memories as
he looks upon the red
clay fields and pine
grown land where the
Army of Northern Vir
ginia laid down its arms,
or stands on the spot
where the terms of sur
render were agreed upon and signed,
There must come to his memory
these words of Grant: "I regard It
as my duty to shift from myself the
responsibility of any further effusion
of blood by asking of you the surren-
General Grant in Wartime.
der of that portion of the Confederate
states army known ' as the Army of
Northern Virginia." Also there comes
to mind these words of Lee: "After
four years' arduous struggle the Army
of Northern Virginia has been com
pelled to yield to overwhelming num
bers and resources."
It is especially impressive to visit
the surrender ground of Appomattox
upon the anniversary or tne events
fclch ftve to Appomattox everlasting,
Wa ;; (
I r A I
K 1 j I
significance. Today It is a ruined
hamlet where a few drowsy persons
dwell. The courthouse was burned 15
years ago, and around the desolated
court square, cumbered with ashes,
charred plaster and shattered bricks,
a half dozen tottering dwellings cling.
Some are tenanted, but others are too
near collapse for even this faint dis
tinction. The "surrender house," the home of
William McLean in the parlor of
which Grant and Lee met, is no more
Gen. Robert E. Lee.
The site and garden of this house aro
heaped with piles of brick and rotting
lumber, which once were the house.
About 1892 the McLean house was
taken down for the purpose of removal
to and reconstruction at the Columbian
exposition at Chicago, but the execu
tion of this plan was carried no fur
ther than the demolition of the house.
There were two Appomattox towns
in 1SC5. It was at Appomattox Sta
tion on the line of railway between
Petersburg and Lynchburg that Sheri
dan s cavalry captured a train of sup
plies from Lynchburg intended for
Lee's army. These supplies stood be
tween Lee's men and starvation. Ap
pomattox Court House the county
seat of Appomattox county was three
miles northward. Today Appomattox
Court House occupies the site cf Ap
pomattox Station and is a brisk vil
lage. Old Appomattox Court House
the Appomattox of history, the Appo
mattox where the expiring hopes of
the South were crushed this is the
hopeless village told of.
Much of the ground occupied by the
armies is now covered with tall, thick
pines. In a particularly dark stretch of
pines the traveler comes upon the
North Carolina monument the most
in fact the only imposing marker on
the fields of Appomattox. The in
scription on this monument which
gives glorious praise to the soldiers of
North Carolina, has caused tense dis
cussion. The accuracy of 'the state
ments cut on the stone has been de
nied. North Carolina
First st Bethel
PartTwvt to the front at Gettysburg
and Chlckamauira
Lat at Appomattox.
Don't you hear the tramp of noldlers?
Don't you hear the bugles play?
Don't you Bee the muskets Hashing
In the sunlight far away?
Don't you feel the Kround all trembling
'Neath the tread of many feet?
They are coming, tens of thousands,
To the army and the fleet.
They ar Yankees, they are Johnnies,
They're for North and South no more;
They are one, and glad to follow
When Old Glory goes before.
HE tragic death of Gen.
John F. Reynolds occurred
less than an hour after
the beginning of the battle
of Gettysburg. The best
account of this has been
given by a member of the
Union army signal corps.
He was watching from the
tower of the Theological seminary on
the edge of the town. "The engagement
was desperate," he declared, "and the
Union forces seemed to be getting the
worst of It when I suddenly saw the
corps flag of General Reynolds. I had
no one to communicate with, so I sent
one of my men to Buford, who rushed
up and seized my glasses, and on see
ing Reynolds said, 'Now we can hold
this place.' Very shortly after this
General Reynolds and his staff came
up and. seeing Ruford in the cupola,
he cried out, 'What's the matter,
John?' 'The devil's to pay!' and go
ing down the ladder he met General
Reynolds, who said, 'I hope you can
hold out until my corps comes up.' 'I
reckon I can,' was Buford's reply.
Reynolds then suggested that they
ride out and see about it. 'General,
do not expose yourself too much,' said
Buford, but Reynolds laughed and
moved nearer etill. After giving some
HE time is again at hand to
pay tribute to our honored
dead, to indulge in Mara
thon runs, to enter con
tests for silver cups and
to secure tickets that will
admit us to the double
headers at the baseball
grounds, so that we may
show how deeply and sincerely we
cherish the memory of those for
whom the garlands are twined. It will
be necessary for some men to make
speeches and for others to listen. For
the benefit of the listeners as well as
of the speakers, a recipe for a Memo
rial day address, furnished by one
who may be a bit cynical, is given.
Take three stories, strictly fresh.
Add one tablespoonful each of ancient
and mediaeval history; allow to come
to a boil, and settle with a chip of
Plymouth Rock. Add slowly 15 drops
of Webster's extract of American rev
olution (tea flavoring). Pour over
one quart Appomattox apple sauce.
Stir In rapidly six gallons solid facts
the heavier tho better. Beat up thor
oughly four or more modern problems,
first being careful to separate them
O far as those to whom the
day was originally dedi
cated are concerned, the
crest has been passed.
The tide is ebbing. The
array of stalwart men who
once marched with meas
ured tread and upright
shoulders-Is today the thin
that wavers at times in
the heroic attempts to
the weight of years. This
blue line
spite of
throw off
Is the pathetic feature of Memo
rial day. The broken ranles, the fal
tering footsteps, the snowy locks,
the stooping shoulders, the halting
gait, the shortening line that each
year brings bear silent testimony to
the fact that it is only a, matter of a
few years until the thin blue line will
have become a blessed memory when
the last of the boys of '61 will hart
From Atlantic to Pacific.
From the IMne Tree to Lone Star,
They are gathering 'round Old Glory,
And they're marching to the war.
Don't you hear the horsea prancing?
Don't you hear the sabres clash?
Don't you hear the cannons roaring?
Don't you hear the muskets crash?
Don't you smell the smoke of battle?
Oh, you'll wish that you had gone,
When you hear the shouts and cheering
For the boys who whipped the Don!
There'll be Yankees, there'll be Johnnies,
There'll be North and South no more,
When the boys come marching homeward
With Old Glory borne before.
From Atlantic to Pacific.
From the Pine Tree to Lone Star,
They'll be one beneath Old Glory
After coming from the war.
directions to Buford, which showed
his determination to concentrate and
to fight. General Reynolds again
mounted his horse and rode away to
meet the head of his column. The
woods at this time were full of Con
federate sharpshooters who were pick
ing off men here and there. When
General Reynolds, accompanied by his
aids. Captains Mitchell and Baird, and
Orderly Charles H. Veil, rode up one
of the Union regiments was approach
ing the woods. Reynolds exclaimed,
'Forward, men; forward, for God's
sake, and drive those fellows out of
the woods!' Ho turned to look for
his supports and to hurry them on,
but before he could speak: again the
bullet of a sharpshooter had penetrat
ed his brain and ho fell forward, dying,
upon his horse. His fall was not no
ticed by the troops, who swept on and
compelled Archer's brigade to sur
render. General Reynolds' horse car
ried the body a short distance, when
It was borne to the rear in a blanket
Just ae Archer himself was being
brought in a prisoner." The death of
General Reynolds was a severe blow
to the Union forces, and no casualty
of the war brought more widespread
mourning. His monument is one of
the finest on the field today.
from their solutions. Then put both
mixtures together and beat to a
froth. When well mixed, add the fol
lowing slowly: One cupful politics
(with extreme care, or it may curdle).
One Quart milk of human kindness.
(The genuine article is extremely rare,
but a substitute recommended by many
public men, and closely resembling
the pure variety, may be obtained any
where. Use tho condensed form.)
Tincture of religion a small quantity,
to taste. One-half cupful premonitions
of national disaster. One and one-third
cupfuls hope. One uprig sage (ad
vice). If in danger of becoming heavy
and falling fiat, add quickly a pinch of
gunpowder. Threo drops each of pa
thos and wit These aro scarce and
hard to procure; but a very little, well
diluted, you will find will go a long
way. Iaurel aid bay leaves may be
substituted for pathos, if necessary.
Stir the whole until thoroughly tired,
then place in a cold oven and let
warm up gradually. When done
brown garnish with firecrackers and
flowers of rhetoric, and serve hot, on
a large American flag.
HENRY HOWtAND.
answered the final roll call, when taps
will have been sounded over the last
gallant defender of the Union.
However, there is little to fear be
cause of the possibility that Memorial
day will be permitted to die, that the
memories of that mighty host will not
be preserved. Another and a younger
generation of patriots is filling in the
gap occasioned by the passing of the
O. A. R. The Spanish War Veterans,
the stalwart line of brown, the khaki
clad young heroes who emulated the
example of their fathers and went
forth to fight for the freedom of an
oppressed race, are the coming main
etay of Memorial day. Memories of a
later but no less glorious struggle,
even If on a less extensive scale, are
awakened in them by the day, la
whose observance they unite with
their elders.
The room was strangely familiar to
her, yet she knew she had never be
fore seen even the
outside of the
bungalow.
It appealed to
her as singularly
masculine. In the
dim light of the
log fire of the
grate she could
see the dark green
walls, hung with
pictures done in
sepia and dull
gray .tones.
Thfl hookcases
were filled with books, richly bound.
She was struck with the simplicity of
the furnishings.
Suddenly the fire flickered Into lire.
and the picture hanging over the fire
place caught her attention. It was ob
viously a snapshot, enlarged but ex
quisitely finished.
It was a picture of a woman, ner
motherhood stamped distinctly on her
beautiful face. She sat before an open
fire, the firelight radiating the laugh
ter in her eyes.
At her knee stood a small boy, his
bright eyes revealing the love of his
own little soul as he smiled respons- .
ively.
Suddenly she roused herself; she
had been dreaming. She was not pre
paring an answer for the man waiting
outside in the darkness. Denny
Brown had asked her to marry him
and she had promised her answer to
night.
They had been running swirtly,
smoothly through the exhilarating air
of the suburbs in Denny's car. Sud
denly something had gone wrong. It
had happened at the very moment
when she should have been answering
Denny.
He had brought her to this bunga
low, asking permission .for her to
wait there.
He had telephoned to a neighboring
garage for a man. They were now re
pairing the machine. In a few mo
ments he would return for her.
How strongly at this monent all
Denny could give her appealed to her!
She was so tired so nervously tired
of her own life.
But the other man! Somehow Denny
had guessed that the other man had
been something to her. For tonight
he bad told her, quietly, that the other
man had failed again. Unconsciously
she had been waiting for "the other
man" to win success.
A man's step sounded on the veran
da Denny had come for her and her
answer was not ready. She heard the
click of the telephone receiver in the
hall. A man's voice not Denny's i
called Woodstock, N. H., on the long
distance. '
It was Phil Berkley the other man I'
She was waiting in his bungalow to
night of all nights, but she had to
listen.
"Hello, that you Mater?"
"Oh, I'm I'm all right v
si
"Yes a bit blue tonight, how did
you know?"
"I hate to tell you, mamsy; but it's
another failure."
"No, I'm going to try again,
time's trying, you know."
Third
"You're so comforting, Mamsy, yes
I'll succeed some day."
"I wouldn't care so much if it
weren't for you and that little girl.
M ft
"Yes, she's waiting for me."-
"Yes, there's Just the understanding
between us. Yet I trust her to wait.
Sometimes I think I must have
dreamed it all.".
"Good-night, dearest "
, In a moment the man would ring
off. She must either hide or run. By
the Ught.of the flame she saw a door
leading from the room to the ve
randa. Rising quickly, she stepped softly
across the room and outonto the ve
randa. Stumbling over the low steps, she
ran breathlessly across the damp lawn,
toward the lights shining dimly in
the road.
Pausing within the shelter of the
shrubbery, she called softly, "Den
ny!" The man left the machine and came
quickly to the lawn.
"Denny, won't you take me home
now? Send the man with the car to
the garage. I want to go now."
"What?" he asked perplexedly.
"Tired of waiting, Beth? It won't bo
more than twenty minutes. It's too
far to walk. There's no other way but
the trolley, and that's so crowded."
"Yes, yes; that's what I want," she
Interrupted; "the trolley the crowds
the lights."
"But, Beth, we want to be alone to
night, dear; Just you and I your an
swer you promised me your answer
tonight"
"Hush, Denny! I ought to have
told you. I can't marry you. I'm
waiting for the other man. I've prom
ised. No; it's not an engagement
There's there's Just an nnderstancV
lng."
(Copyright 1U. by th'McClure Newspa-;
per Byndlca'fO '