Evening Star Newspaper, May 26, 1894, Page 19

FOR LITTLE GIRLS Charming Gowns for Wee and Win- some Daughters, THE FASHIONS OF EARLY SUMMER Bright Colors, Dainty Fabrics and Pretty Styles. THE FAVORED TRIMMINGS VEN AT THIS BUSY Season no mother is too deeply engrossed by social or house- hold duties to over- look the details of her wee and win- some daughters’ tol- lets; and surely no More charming | gowns were ever de- signed than those so Uberally displayed this spring. Bright, dainty col- ors and simple, stylish fashions fairly run Flot. The only difffeulty being to select the Prettiest, for they all seem equally at- tractive. Ginghams, chambrays, percales and the finer qualities of white goods are the most Popular for these summer dresses, and em- are the favored trimmings; silk, lece and ribbons being left for the more Mature belles. The little people's styles Closely follow those used for “grown up folks,” although individual tastes may be consulted and carried into effect to an al- most unlimited extent. ‘The first illustration shows an utterly charming, yet simple design; and one easily made by the home dressmaker. The orig- inal was made of palest blue dimity, with a tiny pin stripe of white, the entire cos- composed of the full blouse puffed sleeves, reaching to the , and a straight full skirt simply fin- a wide hem. The waist was belt- blue moire ribbon fastened at the two ribbon rosettes, one on each the center. The deep bertha of ly-meshed ecru lace was arranged form a deep V front and back, and the Qnishing touch given by an immense leg- horn flat faced with soft folds of biack chiffon and elaborately trimmed with dais- fes And imperinent-looking bows of blue ribbon. The little maid for whom this gown was imtended had two others exactly iike it, except that the material of one was 12 1-2 cent gingham, with waist trimming of em- broidery, and the other India muslin, with Fuffie of embroidery lawn. The simple and inexpensive gingham was Quite as pretty and stylish as either of the others; demonstrating the theory that there is “more in the make-up than in the ra- vy i i Another pretty but more elaborate dress Is shown in the next picture, one especially designed for a golden haired little mourner of my acquaintance. The dress is of sheer | Dlack lawn, with yoke girdle and epaulettes of lawn, delicately embroidered in white. An odd and decidedly pretty innovation is | the yoke effect, the yoke proper being made | as such commodities always are ma-te, with slight points front and back. Then over the lower part and arranged so as t leave a round opening of the black lawn was Placed the embroidered material. The epau- ettes are, as they always must be,very large and full, and ate attached to the edge of the embroidered portion of the yoke. A pure white leghorn flat, lined with black chiffon, tied with broad strings of the seme, and trimmed with black moire rib- bon and a few marguerites, completed the most charming ensemble. Now comes a comfortable little dress for the wee lass who is just a trifle tomboyish, and finds it necessary to be clothed in such manner that her superabundant energies may find vent without being hindered by the trammels of fashionable attire. It is a simple Mother Hubbard, made of percale in narrow stripes of dark biue and white. The square, open yoke is of dark blue duck, and the skirt is trimmed with three rows of dark blue duck braiding. A guimpe of white muslin finished the cos- tume. The fourth sketch is extremely dainty and childish, and is suitable for any ma- terial, but in this instance it is developed in ivory white crepon, with skirt ruffle of bourdon lace. The neck opening is cut Into a deep V in front and left open; the collar extending around and forming a safior in the back. The sleeves are full puffs and are made elbow length, and then pushed up on the arm midway between the elbow and shoulder, where they are held by straps of rubber placed in the shirred sleeve band. The bodice is long, reaching about four inches below the waist line. and the other.” of white the two the lower one of crepon and the upper on which should be a little shorter, of heavily | patterned lace. This little costume is charming when made of China silk, fetta, dimity or any other of the light summer fabrics. Number five is particularly intended for ginghams, the original being exquisitely developed in blue and white striped cham- bray, with girdle and bands of plain blue. The bodice ts gathered from the shoulders to the waist in straight folds, with narrow Tibbon-like bindincs over the bust. The closely fitted corselet is finished about the upper edge with a scant ruffle of blue and white embroidery. The sleeves are fash- ionably immense leg 0’ muttons. The sixth drawing portrays an utterly exquisite little evening dress of shell-pink India silk. The neck is made open and square, bordered with soft bands of folded silk, with rosettes of silk placed at each corner, front and back. The bodice is full and gathered into a girdle of the material, which is fastened at the back by a gener- ously proportioned rosette. The skirt reaches a trifle below the knees, and, fit- ting tightly across the front and side: hangs in graceful gigct plaits in the back. The sleeve puffs barely reach the elbow, where they are finished by narrow cuffs of silk, from which fall ruffles of palest pink chiffor The epaulettes are made of dou- ble puffs of chiffon, and should be very full and wide, coming well over the shoul- ders and sleeves. The last drawing makes a delightful rough-and-tumble outfit for the seashore, and is pretty and becoming in any material which may be selected. B. Vv. K —— Moritura. From Scribner's. Tam the mown grass, dying at your feet; Th pale grass, gasping falotiy in the sun. ik be vad long, long ere Th e air today was sweet.” ing at your feet. say: wh grass dy Tam the white syringa, falling now, When some one shakes the bough, Wimt matter if I lose my If You laugh: “A snow in June Tam the white syringa, falling now. Lam the waning lamp that flickers on: Trying to giv id unelonded light Among the rest make yore garden bright. Let tie burn, still, till a my oll is goue, Tam the waning lamp that flickers on. I am your singer, singing my last note. Death's fingers clutch at my throat. w gress will grow, new flowers bloom and fal New lamps blaze oat = your garden wall; sluser, singing my lust note. Fam Your sles ARGARET GILMAN GEORGE, oo The Goddess of Sm: From Notes and Queries. “A striking account of the difficulties at- tending on the attempt to extend the prac- tice of vaccination in India is given by Surgeon General Sir William Moore. The chief obstacle is superstitious prejudice. The population firmly believe varivia to be matter under the control of the goddess ‘Mata,’ in whose honor temples abound and fairs are held, where thousands of women and children attend with offerings. The declivities of most of the numerous conical hills present either a reddened stone or temple devoted to ‘Mata,’ with most prob- ably an attendant Brahmin priest. “Nearly every village has its goddess of pox. smailpox in the immediate locality, and in| many places a large piece of ground is esteemed holy and dedicated to ‘Mata.’ The people do not pray to escape the affection, unless in seasons when it occurs with more than ordinary violence. They do, however, tition for a mild visitation. But even the loss of an eye does not appear to be viewed as a very serious calamity. ‘Is there not another eye sufficient for all purposes? questioned one of these stoical philosophers. “If it were the leg or hand it would be dif- ferent; but an eye is immaterial.’ ——__-+e-+—____ From Life. is&:| LIGHTNING’S FREAKS | Sosy ssp ceca rose fe Some Results of the Weather Bu- reau’s Observations. THE NOMBER KILLED EVERY YEAR It Sometimes Strikes Twice in the Same Place. SOME QUEER NOTIONS Written for The Evening Star. HE CIRCULAR ON “Protection from Lightning,” just is- sued by the weather bureau, contains no mention of the freaks of electrical storms which that branch of the government ser- vice has been record- ing for some years past. So mysterious and | little understood is} the fluid electricity | even now that It is so widely utilized for mechanical purposes that its vagaries in nature excite the utmost inter The question recently discussed by Italian scien- tists as to whether a bird could be struck by lightning seems to be answered in the affirmative by the destruction of a whole flock of wild geese on April 30 last. Twenty- two of them, flying north over Casnovia, Mich., were slain by a bolt from the sky. Such an extraordinary event would have been regarded as an ominous portent a cen- tury or two ago. ‘The action of lightning as an explosive is @ subject that has elicited spectal attention from the weather bureau of late. Up to date no theory has been found to account for it satisfactorily. On April 30, 1894, a | brick house at Keokuk, Ia., was struck, and as completely wrecked as if a bombshell , had done the work. One day earlier a farm house near Kiowa, Kan., the property of D. R. Streeter, was completely ruined by a bolt, the roof, doors and windows looking as if they had been shot full of holes, At Barberton, Ohio, on June 18, 1898, the | dwelling of William Martin was literally torn to fragments by a similar agency. Special Protection Needed. Inasmuch as 200 people are killed every | year by lightning in the United Siutes, | Special protection for the perscn is surely called for, One ingenious scientist has de- vised an umbrella, with small copper chains | attached to the ends of the ribs. These are long enough to reach the ground. A thun-| der storm coming up, they are loosened and bermitted to dangle, while the owner of the contrivance walks along in perfect security. Under such circumstances metal about one’s body is dangerous—for example, the wires in a iady’s bonnet. But this peril may be overcome by fastening similar chains of copper threads to the framework of the headgear. Though a bolt should de- stroy the bonnet, the electricity would | Spare the wearer and pass off into the | ground. | An instance on record is that of a lady | who raised her arm to shut a window as rain began to fail on a summer's day. There Was a sudden blaze of light, and, though she was unharmed, her gold bracelet disap- peared so that no vestige of it could be found. A sulphurous smell was observed in | the alr. This, scientific men say, is quite usual when lightning strikes, being due to an excess of ozone generated by the elec- tricity. The atmosphere in its usual condl- tion contains one ten-thousandth part of ozone. When this proportion is increased | Inconvenience is felt by men and animais. It has been suggested that some times per- | sons found dead after a stroke of lightning, | though showing no marks of injury, may have been suffocated by ozone. Lightning does occasionally strike twice | in the same place. A few years ago St. Aloysius Church, in Washington, suffered. A flash ran down the lightning red to with. in twenty feet of the ground. Then it left the rod, passed through twenty feet of air Space to a water pipe and broke a wash- stand. Six years later the same thing was | | repeated in every detail the electricity leaving the rod at the same point, jumping | to the water pipe and smashing to pieces | the washstand, which had not been mend- {ed. The Church of the Incarnation here was badly hit some time back. To prevent a repetition of the accident the edifice was protected by a very elaborate and costly system of rods. Tae most important rod, of course, protects the steeple. It ought to terminate in a sharp point; but the church authorities thought it more appropriate that it should be surmounted by a cross, on top of which was placed a rooster. Thus the usefulness of the defensive contrivance has been almost wholly destroyed, for so it stards at present. ~ Opposed to the Ligntning Rod. The introduction of lightning rods in Ro- man Catholic countries was strongly op- posed on religious grounds. Pious persons declared that the devices were of the devil and called them “heretic rods.” It was a long time before the churches would adopt them, though buildings of that description have always been the greatest sufferers from celestial fire, on account of their tall | steeples. During the last century:a certain | church in Carinthia was struck so often | that services were discontinued during the summer months. It was hit four or five times a year on an average. In 1778 a rod was put on and there was no further trou- ble. At Stratsund, in Pomerania, a church was the scene of a very appalling occurrence. On a Sunday, the building being full of peo- ple, a ball of. fire entered and fell upon the altar, thereupon exploding and doing great damage. As to the nature of phenomena of this sort science knows almost nothing. Such globular lightning is seen quite often, but nobody can guess how it is formed. All that can be said is that it is electricity very highly concentrated. Balls of light- ning are sometimes seen rolling along the surface of the sea. Occasionally they strike vessels. As a rule, they burst violently, with a loud noise and disastrous effects. The Washington monument would have been destroyed by lightning long ago but for the protection afforded by the most complete and admirable arrangement of conductors ever devised. Standing 555 feet high, in the middle of a wide space of flat ground, the gigantic obelisk is dangerously exposed. The apex is surmounted by an aluminum cap,which is connected with rods that pass down into a well 000 feet below and beneath the water level. On April 5, 1885, during the passage of a heavy thunder cloud, five immense bolts of electricity were seen to flash between the monument and | the cloud within twenty minutes. No dam- age was done. Two months later, on June | 5, the obelisk received a tremendous stroke, | which slightly cracked one of the stones at the top, but the injury was of no import- ance. Big ships nowadays are usually equipped with a system of conductors running down the m: and so arranged as to carry off lightni to the sea. In old times fire from the skies was on} of the most serious perils that threatened mariners. ' During fifty years, from 17#) to 1840, no fewer than 280 vessels of the British navy were struck, | causing a loss of $750,000, killing 100 men | and badly injuring 250 more. When the protected ship ts hit the electricity passes down the mast into the ocean, as water runs down a pipe. She may reel under the | blow, but no damage results. One of the| most severe encounters was that of H. M. | S. Fisgard, which received such a tremen- dous discharge that the vessel appeared to be covered with fire. At the same moment | there was an explosion as if a broadside had been fired from each side of the ship. She suffered no injury. Lightning has been known to produce a secret burning in the heart of masses of timber. In 1794 the Dic- tator, sixty-four guns, was struck at Mar- tinique. Two days later smoke was seen issuing from her figurehead, which, when = down, was found to contain a nest of me Extraordinary Freaks. The freaks of lightning are extraordinary. At Wooster, Ohio, in June, 1892, a two-story bay window was cut from the main struc- ture of a house as if by a knife. In the same month, at Norwich, Conn., a bolt went into the ground and jerked out of the earth 100 feet of iron water pipe. In October, 1843, three men were struck at the bottom of a mine shaft 330 feet below the surface. It “He stood first on one foot, and then on was supposed that the electricity must have | passed down into the shaft by a chain, ne part of the body or another with the image of a tree or of a leaf. This been considered very mysterious; but it is probable that such phenomena are largely attributable to imagination. Marks made by lightning are apt to be forked and branched in such a fashion as to suggest likenesses of the sort to excited minds. There have been instances where lightning has entered a powder magazine and dis- persed the gunpowder without setting it on fir This is more easily understood when it learned that there is difficulty in set- ting fire to gunpowder by sending a charge from a-Leyden jar through it. The powder is simply scattered without being ignited. If anything interferes with the free passage of the electricity, however, the powder will explode. There have been several frightful disasters caused by lightning striking pow- der magazines. At midnight, August 10, 1857, a magazine at Joudpore, in the Bom- bay presidency, was blown up in this way, killing 1,000 residents. At Luxembourg, June 26, 1807, a magazine containing twelve tons of gunpowder was struck, ruining a large part of the town. But the worst acci- dent of this kind happened at Brescia, August 18, 1769, when 207,600 pounds of powder belonging to the republic of Venice were exploded by lightning, destroying a oo part of the city and 3,000 human be- ngs. ‘There are some parts of the world where practically incessant, the sky being lehted continuously by vivid flashes, while the eirs are deafened by a roar of celestial artillery without pause. One of these local beasts at the rainy time of the year. There is a place in the republic of New Granada where nobody will live on account of the frequency of lightning strokes. Thunder, by the way, is caused by the electric fluid rending the air, which has not time to get out of the way. The “rolling” of thunder is All Damage Done in Five Months. Practically all of the 200 deaths caused by lightning In the United Stetes annually oceur tn the five months from April to September, the hightest rate being in June and July. Such strokes are very apt to produce a condition of suspended antma- tion. Accordingly, the weather burean recommends that everything possible shall be done to stimulate respiration and circu- lation in a person who has been struck, even though there are no apparent signs of life. Cattle and sheep suffer from this cause much oftener than human beings, sometimes an entire flock of sheep is wiped out literally in a flash. In nine years end- ing in 1882, 2,235 barns, 102 churches and 64 dwellings were struck in this country. During the same period there were about 4,000 fires from lightning, with a property loss of $14,000,000. Risk from lightni in rural districts is five times creater than in cities. Oak trees are struck fifty-four times as often as beeches, though nobody knows why. Though physicists say that electricity is a form of motion, the fluid is a mystery yet. Its presence everywhere he!ps to make it interesting. carpet with their feet and thus generate enough electricity to light the gas with a spark from a finge>. Anybody can do that, though the carpet must be of wool and very dry, as well as the floor beneath. Tesla, the famous expert, makes a light burn in his hand from electricity passing through his body. When a powerful elec- trical machine is being worked in a room. projecting sharp points about, the furniture tipped with light. This ts an artificial pro- duction of the so-called St. Elmo's fire, ich sometimes appears on the masts of vessels at sea, exciting the superstitions of sallors. On rare occasions church steeples ere il ted in the same strange fashion. During thunder-storms people's heads have exhibited the phenomenon, each hair being terminated by a minute luminous tuft. Electricity has not always been found a safe plaything. The kite experiment of Franklin was repeated in France in June, 1758, by M. Romas, a provincial judge of 7 scie! mtific = He made a kite eight feet high and three feet wide, the string used being wrapped with copper wire. At the beginning of a thunder-storm he raised it to a height of about 550 feet. Instead of sparks, he obtained flashes of fire a foot long and three inches wide, accom- panied by loud noises like the cracking of whips. his performance was tmitat in August of the same year by Prof. Rich- mann of St. Petersburg, the apparatus be- ing set up in his dwelling. In the midst of the entertainment a large globe of biuish- white fire appeared, with a report like a gun. The experimenter fell back and died instantly, while his assistant was rendered unconscious. The house was filled with sulphurous vapors and was considerably damaged. Marks of burning were found on the dead man's body. In 1837 lightning drawn. from the clouds was made to yield sparks ten feet in length. Depth in the Earth, The ancients belived that lightnhg never The Emperor Augustus always sought ref. uge in a cave during a thunder storm. fled to safety under similar circumstances to a grotto specially provided for the pur- pose, which contained a reservoir of water. The water was expected to put out the fire of the lightning. This was certainly a mis- taken notion, Fishes are sometimes killed by fire from the skies. In 1670 lightning fell upon the lake of Zirknitz, and such quantities of fish immediately floated to the surface that twenty-eight wagon loads were collected for manure. According to Prof. Charles ‘Tomlinson, to whose work on the properties of light- ning the writer is much indebted, the an- ed protection against lightning. Augustus always wore such a skin. Tents were made of that material on this account. In the Avennes, for the same reason, shepherds wear snakeskins in their hats. Attempts were formerly made to dissipate storm by kindling fires in the open air, firing cannon and ringing bells. Phe last method led to many accidents. During thirty-three years in Germany lightning. struck 386 bell towers, killing 121 ringers and wound- ing a much larger number. Chambers of glass have actually been constructed for the occupancy of timid persons during thunder storms. But the notion that glass is impervious to electricity is a mistake. Lightning sometimes reduces glass to pow- der, and it has been known to cut a per- fectly circular disk out of a window pane Dr. Franklin suggested that the plan was to retire during an electrical d turbance into a hammock suspended by silken cords in the middle of a large room. It is always best, under such circumstances, to keep away from the windows and chim. neys, RE BACHE. FeaE de ie, Sak Sane os “ ont Love.” Written for The Evening Star. My heart is sad and weary, And my hopes of love are past; T long for the old sweet dreamiand ‘That was far too dear to last, Where my heart to your whisper fluttered, And I lived in your love alone, But those days, ab, me! have vanished, And their radiant joy has flown. By the river's rippling waters, I take my soul to rest, And pray for those gentle billows To bear me away on their breast. For life of my life you have left me, Alone with this great dispair; My heart is crushed with its sorrow, And only death is fair, Lo Bengula—“Do you kno’ that the bearded lady died last night?” Young-man-afraid-of-the-soap — “Yes, I heard about it. It’s awful sad. She left a wife and three childre: Out of the Swim.—Mr. De Style—“Why have you cut Mrs. Highupp from your list of acquaintances?” rs. De Style—‘They have lost their mon- Who says so?” 0 one; but I’ve learned that she is giv- ing her daughters a thorough education. That shows that she wants them to be school teachers. ‘ew York Weekly, AS THE NAME INDICATES, HALL'S VEGE- table Sictlian Hair Renewer is a renewer of the hair, including its growth, health, youthful color fsud'veauty. fe wil please you.” 7 at certain seasons thunder and lightning are | ities Is the east coast of Sin Domingo, al region shunned on this account by men and due to echoes thrown back from the clouds, | Children shuffle over the | or fixtures are apt to be seen in the dark | struck deeper than tive feet in the earth. | Former rulers of Japan are said to have | cient Romans believed that sealskin afford- | WITH BOLDWAY POST BY JOHN HABBERTON. Copyrighted.) OLDWAY POST OF the Grand Army of the Republic was about as small as @ny post could be without going out of existence. When first organized it had a full dozen of mem- bers, but some of the boys died and others moved from the vil- | lage, until there re- | mained only Crease, | Wadderly and Trup- sun. It was not an illustration of the sur- vival of the fittiest, either, for the three members were about as dilapidated as the jost Itself. All had been dashing troopers | in their day, but no one would have thought it a few years later, for Crease, the tailor, | had lost a leg, Wadderly had lost three | fingers, and Trupsun had lost all of his grip. They had no fiierds but one another, for they had bored the villagers to death with stories of the one notable period of their lives, and they weren't of much ac- count in say way, even to their respective families. ‘They were of great comfort to them- selves, though. Almost every night they met in Crease’s dingy Mttle shop to talk over old times end old comrades, and with pipes and profanity they would make the alr as blue and rank as any they had ever breathed on the battlefield. They kept up Boldway Post, too, after a fashion, though the department had ceased to recognize the organization. Once a year they elected officers, taking turns as post commander, |and they always celebrated Decoration day by marching through the principal sweet of the village to the cemetery, one bearing a sword, another carrying the na- Uonal colors, on which were inscribed the numes of fights in which their regiment had been engaged, while the third carried a handsome post flag, presented by the ladies of the village in the days before en- thusiasm over survivors of the war had sone out of fashion. They could not affcrd to hire a band, and the local Cornet Quar- tet had wearied of volunteering to play in front of three shabby old chaps, so they took turns in humming dead marches on the way to the cemetery and whistling “Rally Round the Flag” and “Marching Through Georgia” during the return march. At the cemetery their decoration cere- monies were brief, for famiHes of deceased soldiers usually preferred ty themselves strew flowers over the graves of their lost ones. Ihe boys never failed, though, to| place some flowers on the monument of Boldway, for whom the post was named. Boldway’s remains were not under the Stone; they were supposed to be somewhere among the uninown dead within the ene- ;My's lines, where Boldway fell, severely wounded, during a repuise. The little fel- low hed been the darling of the company to which the original members of the post belonged, aithough he was a stranger in the viiag® in which his comrades had reared | @ litte monument to his memory with the proceeds of a post fail Whenever at Creage’s shop the procession of overworked war stories began to ‘ag Wearily the three survivers would drop into reminiscence of Boldway’s good quali- | es. “Chipper as he was little’ was Crease’s | usual remark, “and the Lord knows he was mighty near to bein’ the littlest member of the troop.” “Always jolly, though he never took a drink. How in thunder he managed it beats Wadderly would say. ‘Sure to Whistle an’ was goin’ | | 6 when ev'rythin’ wrong an’ ev'rybody else was cussin’,” was Trupsun’s customary state- ment. hen ali would recall incidents of Boldway’s career, and sometimes the ac- cumulation of recollections would work up Would be taken on the spot to purchase a fifteen-cent haif-pint of whisky with which to drink to the gallant fellow’s memory. Just as the sun of one ion day had got far enougu ubove the house tops to make the dusty main street look like a trail in the Sahara desert the president of the Great Stretch railway emerged from | the dining room of the best hotel, stood in the office doorway overlooking the street, lit a mild cigar, and looked inquiringly to | the right and left. The president did not reside in the village; he never had seen the place until that very morning, when he had arrived, by appointment, to meet another railway president in a place too small to Know anything of either of them, and in which they could therefore lave a quiet end important talk without fear of being dis- covered by newspaper men. Across the street ‘and in front of the hotel began the lane on which Crease had his shop, and against the front of the build. ing the president saw all of Boldway Post leaning as solidly as if they were under contract to keep the shop from tumbling forward. All tiree of the members, who | were in Grand Army uniform, were staring | at the clock in the tower of the town hail. As the hands indicated the hour of 9 the | one-legged tailor, who was post commander that year, and who had his sword at his thigh beside his crutch, exclaimed: “Sound the ‘assembly! Wadderly whistled the call, after which he and Trupsun stood side by side. “Once a year,” remarked the proprietor | of the hotel, as he sauntered near his | new guest, “once a year those old fellows do get sand enough in them to stand up straight for a minute or two.” mph!” replied the president, they “They're our village pest of the G. A. R. —what's left of it.” “Indeed? Village unhealthy?” “Not a bit of it, but, you see, "twas a good deal smaller in war times. Besides, a real estate boom collapsed a few years ago, and some of the old vets moved away. Then, of course, some have died.” “Ah—I see. Well, is this any special oc- casion, that they are ip uniform?” “Decoration day, 1 believe.” “Why, so it is.” The president looked a bit shame-faced as he raised his hand to the side of his breast where the heart 1s popularly supposed to be. Just then Crease emerged from his shop with the post's two flags, and gave one to each of his | Then he closed the door, took hi front of the couple, drew his sword and shouted “Forward—march.” Wadderly whistled the call, which no soldier can ever forget. The railway presi- dent’s shoulders suddenly rose a couple of inches. “Who are right—march.” As the post filed into the main street the railway man looked solemnly at it, raised his hat, stroked his beard, frowned and ‘I thought citizens usually took some part in Decoration day pro ‘ “Well, they used to here,” replied the landlord, “but, the fact is, our people don’t like to follow thfee fellows like those.” “Why not? Didn't the three fight?” “Oh, yes; but—well, if you saw them out of uniform you'd understand,” “Umph!” The president followed the pro- cession with his eyes, then looked at his watch, and said, “If a Mr. Smith calls for me, please say I'll be back in an hour. 1'll take a stroll, I think. ‘Then the president walked briskly down the street, in the direction taken by Bold- way Post. In three minutes he passed all the business houses; then he threw open his coat, unpinned from his vest the clasp of a the old fellows so mightily that @ collection | | pieces, as you say, memory of the patriot dead, for did he not know by bitter experience what some of them had endured, only to 0 into oblivion before the successful result of their work had become visible? Never before, however, had he followed the flag on Decoration day; — left that sort of thing to men who ould talk with the old ceremonies, whatever they might be, concluded; ; <~ tg ed; Perhaps some sym. a stranger who was yet a comrade might foriora than It looked. <* ‘B® to feel less Into the cemetery marched the little g the various avenues on idway—knew heard of an- It couldn't him very well; never had he other man of the same name. be his old acquaintance for wh Was named, for his. Boldway was very much alive, while arm; ts nam only for dead soldiere, » POS 8Fe = Finally the procession halted at the Bold- way monument, saluted and dropped both flags upon the stone; then each member of the post took from between the second and third buttons of his biouse a cluster of flowers, which he laid at the foot of the little monument; moved his hat and wiped his brow with his coat sleeve. The visiting comrade looked curiously from one man to another; he knew the order had a “Ritual of the Dead,” or something of the kind—he was ashamed to admit to himself that the only meeting of his own post he had ever attended was the one at which he was initiated. Was there to be no ceremony on this occasion? | Apparently not, so as he was eager with | curiosity as to the identity of the man from | whom the post took its name, he said: “Comrades, 1 beg your pardon, but will you kindly tell me who this Boldway was | Whose name you have on your colors? I knew a soldier of his name.” “Well, sir,” replied the one-legged tailor, “if yeu knew our man you knew the finest feliow in the whole darned army. Chipper | as he was Uttle, ang the Lord knows he was mighty near to bein’ the littlest mem- 8 gol, though he never took a drink,” said Wadderly. “How in thunder he managed {t beats me. “Sure to whistle an’ sing when ev’rythin’ was goin’ wrong an’ ev'rybody else was added Trupsun. “What was his first name?—what regi- ment and company?” asked the president quickly. By way of answer Wadderly raised one of the flags from the monument and pointed to the inscription. The presi- dent stared at it, then at the men, and asked: “Are you sure that Harry Boldway rests beneath that stone?” “No,” replied the post commander, theath- ing his sword and leaning against the stone, the entire command following his «xampie and preparing for the old-fashioned talk they always had at the monument om Deco- ration day. “We're only sure that he was pretty well shot to pieces in a iittle scrim- mage our battalion had down in Virginia one day, an’ we had to git away, an’ we heard of him again. You can take in what ) all that means, I s’pose, seein’ you've been in the service yourself.” “But this monument?” persisted the pres- lent. “Erected by his comrades, that never for- got him.” “By you three?’—the president looked strangely at the men as he spoke. For a moment Trupsun recovered some of his lcst erip and replied: “Stranger—comrade, I mean, perhaps you think we was always as played out as we are now. Well, we wasn’t. We wasn't ail there was of the post when the monument was put up, but we done our full share at raisin’ the money.” The president looked from one man to another several times in succession, and then seemed to do a lot of wondering, while the old fellows told a lot of stories about Boldway, all highly to Boldway’s credit. The president displayed so much interest that the stories came faster and faster, unul Trupsun suddenly exclaimed: “Well, comrade, do you think our Bold- way an’ yourn was the same man?” “Think? Why there's not the slightest doubt of it. The name is the same; so is the regiment and company. Seems strange, doesn’t it? Now, comrades, brace your- selves, good and hard, for I'm goiag to give you the biggest surprise you've heard of since the war ended. Boldway isn’t dead— he’s as much alive as any of us.” “What?” “Great Scott!" “Gosh!” “Its a fact. He wi pretty well shot to but the southern doctors | Put him together as well as they could, and treated him very decently, but it took him nearly a year to get well enough to be moved, and as the war ended before he got fairly out of the hospital, and some of his Sick associates had become his friends, he remained south a while, struck a good busi- ness chance, took it from there to the west, and—well, the upshot ts that he's pretty well to do in the world.” On the old fellows’ faces amazement sat enthroned as securely as if it intended to remain there foreve>, but soon Wadderly looked Treproachfully at the president, and said: —o omrade, we've heard war stories be- 0 hat?—you doubt my word?” The president flushed angrily, for he was a man of veracity. “Very weil; I'll put an end to that ve:y quickly. You know the names of some of his comrades? I can name some to you that he remembers very well—men of his own company. For instance, Miller, Taylor, 4 4 “Boys—boys—do you hear that?” ex- claimed the post commander. “And,” continued the president, “another name was Wadderly.” “Gosh!” ejaculated the owner of the name, as he snatched his colors from the monument and waved them wildly. “And Trupsun,” the president went on. “Great Scott!” shouted Trupsun. “Boys, I'm young again. The devil's dead if Bol way’ he? I'd tramp through hell without a canteen for the sake of seein’ him, though, of course, he ain't down there if he’s alive. Does he whistle an‘ sing yet—an’ tell ries?” ‘Stories? Greatest bore that his friends have—tells war stories on the slightest prov- ocation. I'll give you some of them on the way back to town; perhaps you'll recognize some of the characters and incidents. As to singing and whistling, the people in the same office with him say he’s always softly whistling when he's at his desk—that’s his way of keeping wn his temper when some one is trying to beat him at a bargain, or playing mean on him tn some other way. Say, comrades, excuse me a minute for aero | myself on the top of his monu- ment—it'll be fun to tell his friends about it, and as "8 not dead there’s no disre- spect in it.” So saying, the president ex- tended himself on the low, long stone, while se, who seemed still inclined to be skeptical, remarked, “Say, comrade, not doubtin’ your word at all, but thinkin’ that mebbe some sharper has stole Boldway’s name an’ reputation, for anybody that knowed him would be glad to have ‘em, can you tell me any of the songs he sings—any particular ones that you ain't ever heard from anybody else?” “Let me see,” said the president. After there's one that he twisted a little from a song in a comical Irish 4) m story that been in every cavalry camp in the sey States, I suppose—‘Charles O'Mal- ey. “Hey, boys,” exclaimed Trupsun, again waving his flag; but he was called to onier by the post commander, who asked, “What's the song?’ “Why, it’s to the music of ‘We Won't Go Home Till Morning,’ and it puffs the field officers of his regiment, by name, and the chorus is—though I believe Boldway never drank while he was a soldier— a medal which reposed in his watch pocket, and affixed the sign of the Grand Army of the Republic to the left breast of his coat. He overtook the procession, hurried to the middle of the street, “fell in’ behind the post, and “took step” from the commander's crutch and right foot; as he did so he heard Wadderly humming the dead march from “Saul,” but when the musician became con- scious that there had been an addition to the procession, the music ceased abruptly, while Trupsun also turned his head and ex- claimed: “Great Scott! Comrade?” “Correct,” replied the president, touching his medal. The post commander overheard the con- versation, and half turned on his ringle foot—a movement which nearly resulted in his being run over by the procession; then he recovered himself and shouted: “Order in the ranks! File-closers will pre- serve proper distance.’ There was no more talk on the line of march, but the visiting member of ihe or- der did a lot of thinking. He had been a soldier himself, and very proud he was of his record, for good cause, too. He had been wounded, though no one would suppose it who looked at his ruddy cheeks, cleat eyes, and elastic, though stout, figure. He was full of patriotism; his army recollec- tions were dear io him; he honored the “We'll fill and drink, hooray! We'll drink to the coming day, When, with sabers bare, a We'll a be there ‘0 meet the foe in the When, with sabers bare = We'll all be there To meet the foe at morn.” Before the president had halt finished the Quotation the whole of Boldway Post was humming it, and at the conclusion the com- mander exclaimed, “Shake, conwade. man. Now tell us where he is; we ain't a-goin’ to camp on him, but we've got to look at that boy once more.” “I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, gentle- men. He passes for a pretty’ g00d fellow, but he doesn’t look a bit as he used to; he was only an eighteen-year-old boy, smooth- faced, you know, and hadn't got his growth when you knew him; now his hair has slipped from the top of his face to the bot- tom of it. Still, you shall see him sooner than you tbink, for he’s going to be in this reighborhood very soon, and I shall be here too. I'll Pek go to bring you together. I must get to the village now, for I've a business appointment to keep, if you'll let me march back with you I'll tell lot of his war sturic I promised. ‘We don’t march. —we'll go at ‘rout then each veteran re-_ couldn't bring him with us, an’ we rever | alive. Look here, comrade, where is | musing & moment he continued: “Oh, yes; | You've got the right | of this i b Bizet ben cceaten, the His of Teideata wa first introduced in ‘who has ‘been aifiieted tm ber back, occa- compleiat; ot tues che wa to le Gown, sleep abunt with i ‘the use of 5 Bedy's Favorite Remedy, sbe purchased bottle | and degan to it with the most sa | Fesult. To use Mra Homan’s own words, “It sa | Krow of crag’ tis, wore Ite weight in gold, | Barta “haces Puree Remeay py ye | Sniferea fiom weaved, hem. My. slater, Mrs. Leomie, Sod it Gk bers wend cE es yeas aps =| > i] ismissed, the post commander. e couldn't keep any sort of order if any of Boldway's stories are goin’ on.” Back to the village tramped in close order, the commander shoul | his crutch and leaning on the arm of | president, who kept up a steady fire stories, in which the old fellows recog: | nized some experiences and acquaintances (of their own. Loungers om the sidewalk | group, and one of the village clergymen re- | marked to a friend that war, like misery, made strange companions. Arrived at the | hotel the president said: “Gentlemen, do me a favor. Nurse your appetites until about 1 o'clock, and take dinner with me at the hotel—in your uni- | forms.” . | ‘The members Jooked sheepishly at one another, for it was the first time they had been asked to take dinner with any one at | the hotel; indeed, they had some doubts, afterward, whether the landlord would al- |low them in his dining room, for they never had been over welcome at his bar, | although they never ventured there with- | out the price of what they called for. | president insisted, | however. 80 they went over to Crease’s shop over - derful disclosures of the Gay, and then they got up energy enough to shave and their faces and comb their heads, f man who knew Boldway and was bring them together deserved more than they ever showed their fellow- men. Meanwhile President Smith of the railway company had been cooling | heeis and heating his head on piazza, and when he saw the man he had been waiting he | charge at the rate of a hundred hour for the detention he had cause his distinguished competitor enough to allow old associations forget business. The busin two men was soon under | Ul the landlord had been pare a six-course dinner served in a private room, an: | bottles of his best claret in become properly tempered. President Smith's business and the presi ? ni Hey i i f 5 8 z ge ee j i Some over to Ginner, gentlemen, and bring the colors along.” The dinner was a good » in- one—better, deed, the landlord afterward admitted, than | it would have been had he known who was | to eat Pa are —— were | too, and the flow of claret, although they hadn't | afterwari agreed that | they could take in the “soft stuff” and feel so good after it, as the stream of war stories, range though it may | yarns that were new to hi | were from Boldway's had been a hundred amended by the mem! | meal was pro! wouldn't know the guests for the fellows who had paraded in the m “Gentlemen,” remarked the president, af- ter draining his coffee cup and lighting a | second cigar, “before we dry out | throats with tobacco let's have seme old |army songs. Suppose we begin with that | favorite of Boldway’s, and start the last verse first?” The old boys looked doubtfully at one an- other, and Wadderly drawled: “Well, fact is, we ain't much on the sing; we can hum that tune, but I don’t bilieve any one of us could raise it with the words.” “Hum away, then; I'll try to raise the words myself, after we get the tune well junder way. The music arose doubtfully and un- musically; it sounded like an altercation between a creak, a squeak and a grunt; but | the president said encouragingiy, as the last tar ended with much volume of sound: “Good. Now I'll try the words; be sure that you all come in on the chorus, Excuse me if I stand; never can sing while sitting.” Then he arose, and with quite a clear strong Voice sang. | And when with years and honors crowneé We sit the homeward hearth around | And hear no more the stirring sound | Of the bugie’s shrill alarm, |. “Chorus, now.” As he said this the pres ident threw up his left hand, the fist chehched, and beat time vigorously, ‘ds hand meanwhile making the half circie of the “moulinet” of sword practice They sang: We fill and drink, hooray! To the memory of the day; When, with sabers bare, We all were there To meet the foe in the morning; When, with the sabers bare, We all were there To meet the foe at morn. No sooner did the chorus begin than Wad- jderly got upon his feet and lost his voice; then Trupsun got up and cracked noisily, while Crease, who was so agitated that twice he dropped his crutch, waited only until the last note to exclaim “Comrade! You're Boldway! ‘Sui shouted the remainder of the ll, boys, I was hoping that you’ tumble to the fact in the course of time,” said the president, pleasantly, “Thunder Gosh!” reat Scott!” ‘ow that you know me,” resumed the entertainer, “perhaps you'll do me the honor to invite me over to post juar- ters. I've got the landiord to get the |band—a cornet quartet, I believe—to play | for us on the way, and as there are several tunes I want us to hear together, and the headquarters aren't far away, let's reach it by marching eritirely around the biock— gy “Whatever Boldway says, goes,” respond- e4_the official. The cornet quartet, agreeably to instruc- tions given in advance by Boldway, was already waiting at the door of the hotel, and, according to orders, started “We'll Rally Round the Flag” just as the colors |reached the sidewalk. The one-legged. tail- or rose to the occasion; he had not- his | sword with him, but, snatching @ cane | from a bystander, he shouted: “Forward—march.” As evening had come, the whole of the | Village was soon in the streets to listen to the music, and by the time the post and its visitor had entered the tailor shop there | were several hundred people outside who |} would have given their chance of heaven far the sake of getting inside and learning what any smart-looking business man could see in the three most uninteresting old fel- lows in the village. Boldway insisted upon smoking a pipe with the boys, while the music played outside, and when he returned to the hotel he carried a headache with him, for the post tobacco was simply aw- ful. But, as he told some comrades in the ity a day or two later, "twas worth a cadache to come to life at one's own mon- ment, and without having been | either.