Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1891-10-16
JAMES wHlTcomB RILEY
Tells Newspaper Man Couple of p,
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Tells Newspaper Man "a Couple of Pa
thotic and Humorous Stories.
Mr.. Riley, who was dining at an Italian
restaurant, bit the end OF one of those crow
bars Of bread that are served in those cara
vansaries, while his listener begged him to
emit story. He finally consented TO tell
this combination Of humor and pathos:
Il was wandering up one Of the principal
streets of indianapolis one Decoration day.
when met rugged old farmer from the in
terror who seemed to have lost his way. AS
he wandered aimlesSly along 1 approached
him and asked: DO you enjoy the exercises
of the dayF Wall, SO So he answered; but
l amt here for fun. I come up to 80 to the
buryin' ground up there on the hill.
My boys buried up there. He was
in the army, you know He had to
lie about his age to git in, but the angels
IL forgive that one lie Lord how he did
fight! I've hearn the other soldiers tell
about it. Wall, he went into the Battle o
the Wilderness an got wounded awful They
telegraphted to me, an l went right down.
He wanted to be took home an | fetched
him. On the way up be grew worse, an he
said to me if he could live to get home an
see his ma he would be satisfied He KEEP
gittin' weaker an weaker, but he held on till
got him home. His ma tried to muse him
back to life, but he KEEP on runnin' down.
He called me up to hi bed one night bout
shutdown, an said, sez he, Pa, / wanter be
buried up in town (meanin' here in Ingian-
apols) am | want You to keep my grave
green
Here the old farmer wiped the tears from
his cheeks with his big brown hand, and
then brought it down on my shoulder in
determined manner, and exclaimed: AN,
mister, I'm agoin' to keep that grave green if
I have ter paint itr"
One of the most affecting stories that Mr..
Riley tells is that which gave him the inspi-
ration for his pathetic poem, cause I've
got curvature Of the spine 1t voices the
boastful, CHEEKY sentiments Of little de
formed child who glories in his deformity,
and whose only fear is that his aunty win
not know him when she gets to heaven,
where he is, because there, as she has told
him, he viii be erect and free from deformi-
ty like the other angels
The idea for that poem,n said Mr. Riley,
twas suggested by a rough, rugged man that
met on one of my tours l had been lee
turing in little interior town, and had to
get up at daylight one cold morning to ride
to the nearest railway station. The man who
drove me over was one OF those rugged char
acters that you meet in the rural regions
one Of those men who deem sentimentality
weakness and tears something to be
ashamed Of. AS we rode along over the
Creahing snow he said, i hearn YOU talk
last night | remarked, 'Indeedi | hope
you Ell jOyed it YES, said he, fust rate.
My little girl was there She likes that
sort o thing. She's great on po'try You
may hev seen her. She sat on the front row.
She's little girl, not very tall. You must
a-noticed her. l told him that did not re-
call having seen her, and he continues: She
amt very big. She don't weigh morn fifty
pounds. You see, she's got curvture of the
spine. Her mother died when she was lit
tie thing, and havin' no one to look out fer
her as a mother can, she fell down stairs one
day an hurt herself. She never got over it.
l hev took care O her the best l knew how,
but she's never growed. Sometimes | think
she'll never be no bigger The tears welled
to his eyes as he talked. He was ashamed to
show the evidences Of his grief, and turned
aside his head. Seeing that | was looking at
him and had discovered his emotion, he
dashed away the moisture from his eyes with
one Of the heavy leather mittens that he wore
and said: I dunno what's the matter with
my eyes. One o my bosses is lame, an put
some liniment on his leg this mornin' 1 must
"a got some of it on this yer mitten O mine.'n
New York Evening Sun.