Morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven [Conn.]) 1848-1894, 1894-05-26
THE FLEETING SHOW.


Some of Its Facts and Fancies.
Written for the JOURNAL AND COURIER
MEMORIAL SERVICE
The little village gravey ard lies remote |
Upon the shoulder of a windswept hill; |
Here brambles riot; there the velvet moss |
O'srspreads the sunken graves with living green;
The paths, 80 seldom trod, are quite effaced
By tangled vines; the slanting stones are gray
With Iichens that obscure the csrven names,
And round-faced cherubs, staring eyed and
quaint,
With disproportioned, Intellectual wings.
Here came one sweet and sunny morn in May,
Ere the wild birds had ceased their matin songs,
An aged man, in coat of faded blue,
With tarnished trappings and the stains Of war.
A dinted scabbsrd clinked, as painfully
He made his way among the tangled briers;
A tattered f1sg was laid across his arm,
That wrapped sheaf Of flowers from wood and
field.
Among the little hollows, and across
The messy ridges passed the veteran
To where upon the hilltopss sunny crest
Were clustered mounds, all fresh and green, and
clear
or matted vines and weeds Of evil growth.
The long grass rippled like q meadow brook;
An oriole flashed his gold across the blue;
And sweet and CHEEKY came the robins call.
The soldier knelt beside the sacred graves,
And barred his forehead to the radiant sun;
Planted his staff and set the Stars and Stripes
A-fiut' er, quiv'rlng to the winds caress.
Parted his flowers and in the dewy grass
Set starry knots Of red aud white and blue,
While broken words fell from his trembling lips.
"Here, Ned, dear fellow are the flowers you
| loved:
And Harry-these for you, and Ben, and Phil
Good comrades, noble lads-these are your
| We five our little hamlet sent af1eld
To fight, to die-if need be-for the flag.
How proud we were we playmates, flushed with
| hope,
Elated, dreaming but Of victory
And four returned, go silent, pale and cold,
To quiet graves upon the lonely hill,
And one, a wounded, spent and broken man,
To grieve for them through all these weary
| years.
Dear Joe, who saved my life at Fredericksburg
And Ned, who nursed me when the fever swep,
| In fiery currents through my throbbing veins;
And Harry, gallant leader, gentle friend;
And good old Benny little sisters heart
Broke when the message came-'He died to
day
Dear comrades all-ye grand, heroic souls
Whom death could never vanquishl ys are still
Young, eager, joyous in the smile OF God.
And am old and lone-the last, the lasti
Twill not be long, boys, ere clasp your hands
And see your dear, glad faces-no, not long,
He bowed his head, and solemnIy and slow,
Whispered heartfelt prayer, and turned away
The faded flag was waving in the wind;
The flowers shone gaily in the ripping grass;
And sweetIy fell the robins caroling-
Cheer! shesrl oh chseri Twill not be long
not loDg!"
ANOTHER oLoGY.
A new science, or theory, has been add
ed to the lengthsning list of those who's
designations terminate in "ology." "Scarp
ology" ia the latest method of charaote
reading and It is effected by q critical stud,
of old shoes. If 1t is desired to estimst
the mental characteristics OF the subject Il
q manner that may be relied upon, stud
not the contour of the head or the lines o
the face; the lines of the hand or the shsp
Of the fingers, or the style Of the hand