The Forrest City times., 1893-05-12
A WATERLOO VETERAN.
He Was Proud of His Medal and
 His Son.

How fate drifted the old veteran into our little Canadian Lake Erie village I never new. Drifted him? No; he ever marched as if under the orders of his commander. Tall, thin, white-haired, close-shaven and always in knee brooches and long stockings, he was an antique and martial figure. Fresh whitefish," was his cry, which he de- livered as if calling all the village to fall in for drill.
 So impressive was his demeanor that he dignified his occupation. For years after he disappeared, the peddling of whitetish by horse and cart was re- garded in that district as highly re- spectacle It was glorious trade when old John Locke held the steel yards and served out the glittering fish with an air of distributing ammunition for a long days combat.
 I believe I noticed on the first day 1 saw him how he tapped his left breast with a proud gesture when he had done with lot of customers and was about to march again at the head of his horse. That restored him from trade to his sol diership-he had saluted his Waterloo medal.
 There, beneath his threadbare old blue coat, it lay, always felt by the heart of the hero.
 "Why doesn't he wear it outsider" l once asked.
 He used to-" said my father. till Hiram Scudder, the druggist, asked him what he'd take for the bit of pew ter"
 What did old John say. sir?"
 " Take for the bit of pewter said he, looking hard at Scudder with scorn! I've took better mems lives nor ever yours was for to get it, and I'd sell my own for it as quick as ever I offered it before
 ''More fool you, said Scudder.
 "'You're nowt, said old John, very calm and cool, your nowt but walk ing dirt. From that day forth he would never sell Scudder fish; he wouldn't touch his money"
 It must have been late in 1854 or early in 1855 that first saw the medal. Going home from school on a bright winter afternoon 1 met old John walk ing very erect, without his usual fish supply. A dull, round white spot was clasped on the left breast of his coat.
 MT. Locke" said the small boy, staring with admiration, ''is that your glorious Waterloo medal?'
 You're good little lad"'
 He stopped to let me see the noble pewter.
 Wars declared against Rooshia," went on the old man, and now's right to show it. The old regiments sailed, and my only son is with the colors."
 Then he took me by the hand and led me into the village store. where the lawyer read aloud the news from the paper that the old veteran gave him. In those days there was no railway within fifty miles of us. It had chanced that some fisherman brought old John later paper than any previously received in the village.
 ''Ay, but the duke Is gone" said he, shaking his white head, ''and it's curious to be fighting on the same side with an other Boney."
 All that winter and the next, all the long summer between, old John dis played his medal. When the report of Alma came his remarks on the French failure to get into the fight were severe.
 What was they ever without Boney?" he would inquire.
 But letter from his son after Inker- man changed all that.
 Half of us was killed, and the rest of us clean tired with fighting" wrote Corporal Locke. What with bullet