The Van Buren press., 1893-05-20
4 WATERLOO VETERAN.
he Was Proud of His Medal and
His Son.

he Was Proud Of His Medal and
His Son.
How fate drifted the old veteran into
our little Canadian Lake Erie village l
never new. Driftcd him? No; he ever
marched as If under the orders of his
commander. Tall, thin, white-haired,
closc-shaven and always in knee
brooches and long stockings, he was an
antique and martial figure. Fresh
whitefish,- was his cry. which he de-
livcrcd 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
whitefish by horse and cart was re-
garded in that district as highly re-
spoctable. 1t was a glorious trade
when old John Locke held the steel
yards and served out the glittering fish
with an air OF distributing ammunition
for long days combat
believe I noticed on the first day l
saw him how he tapped his left breast
with 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
fiership--he had saluted his Waterloo
medal!
There, beneath his threadbare old
blue coat, it lay, always felt by the heart
Of the hero.
'sWhy doesn't he wear it outsider
once asked.
s'lIe used to-" said my father, 'till
him what he'd take for the bit of pew
ter.'"
ssWhat did old John say, sir?'
ss 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 rs quick as ever | offered it
before.
z More fool you,' said Scudder.
" You're nowt,' said old John, very
calm and cool. you re nowt but walk
ing dirt From that day forth he would
never sell Scudder fish; he wouldn't
tonch his money"
IL must have been late in 1854 or
early in 1855 that first saw the medal
Going home from school on a bright
winter afternoon 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.
sMr. Locke said the small boy,
staring with admiration. lis that your
glorious Waterloo medal?'
you're . good little lad.''
He stopped to let me see the noble
pewter.
''War's declared against Rooshia, -
went ON the old man, land 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
6fty miles of us. 1t had chanced that
some fisherman brought old John a
later paper than any previously received
in the village.
'Ay, but the duke is gone" said he,
shaking his white head, 'sand it's curious
to be fighting on the same side with an
other Buney."
AL 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.
s'What was they ever without Boney?''
he would inquire.
But lett er from his son after Inker-
man changed all that.
Half OF US was killed, and the rest
Of us clean tired with fghting,- wrote
Corporal Locke. ''What with a bullet
through the flesh of my right leg and
the fatigue Of using the bayonct so long,
was like to drop.
'sThe Russians were coming on again
~ II there was no end to them, when
strange drums came sounding in the
mist behind MS. With that we closed
np and faced half.round. thinking they
had outflanked us and the day was
gone, SO there was nothing more to do
but make out to die hard, like the sons
of Waterloo men. You would have
been pleased to see the looks of what
was LETT OF the old regiment, father.
Then all of q sudden French
column came up the rise out of the
mist, roaring 'Vive rEmpereur. their
drums beating the charge. We gave
them room, for We were too dead tired
70 60 first On they went like mad al
the Russians, SO that was the end of a
hard mornings work. was down,
tainted with loss OF blood, but will
soon be fit for duty again. When l
came to myself there was Frenchman
pouring brandy down my throat and
talking in his gibberish as kind as any
Christian Never word win say agin
them red-legged French again"
Show me the man that would, y
growled old John. lit was never in
them French to act cowardly. Didn't
they beat all the world, except us and
the dule?r
With the ending of the Crimean war
our village was illuminated. Rows OF
tallow candles in every window, fire
works in = vacant field and torchlight
procession! Old John marched at its
hesd Ia full regimentais, straight as q
ramrod, the hero Of the night.
His son had been promoted sergeant
for bravery on the field We boys
thought the old army Of Wellington