davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

tervals tho muffled sound of tho martial
music, now rising and swelling. now
softly dying away.
The colonel slowly and laboriously
picked his way among the graves, stop.
ping now and then to read name or
date. At last he came to we'll kept in
closure, and parting the climbing rose
vines passed in. Yes, here was what he
sought A smooth whito slab told the
world that Here lies Captain Charles
Dennison, 49th Regiment, Pennsylvania
Volunteers, with the added verse:
On fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with ceaseless round
The bivouac of the dead.
The poor old colonel was so overcome
at beholding, after so many years, the
tomb of his favorite officer that, show.
ering the grave with the costliest flow
ers he had been able to procure, he bent
his head upon his hands and sobbed
aloud.
A sound near him made him raise his
head.
On the other side of the grave stood
the major.
The two men looked steadfastly at
each other for moment.
Colonel" the major was first to
speak, "what was Captain Charles Dem
nison to your"
"A beloved officer, SIR" said the
colonel, struggling to choke back his
emotions. II loved him like o son, sir.
/ only learned this morning that he was
buried here He broke off, unable
further to proceed.
''And are these your flowers?" asked
the major.
The colonel only bowed his head.
II thank you, sir, said tho major in
his most stately and winning manner,
''for this kindly tribute to one of my
family
"Your family?" gasped the colonel.
Eyes, Captain Charles Dennison was
my youngest brother. SIR"
The colonel recoiled as IL he had been
struck. But in an instant, recovering
himself, he courteously doffed his hat,
and extending his long hand over the
grave said simply, will you forgive
me, majorT'
And as the sun dipped down behind
the mountains it sent its last rays across
two battered, manned old heroes going
away arm in arm from the grave of Cap,
tain Charles Dennison.
And the north and the south once
more were reunited.
EDITH SESSIONS TUPPER.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

How bright are tho honors which awadt those
who, with sacred forttude and patriotic pa.
tience, hayo endured nil things that they mi ght
rave their native land from division andlfrom
inc a power OF eorruptioni 9he honored deadi
Ihey that died Tor good cause arc redeemed
from doath. Their names are gathered and
gnrnered. Their memory is' precious. Each
place grows pyoud for them who were horn
there There Ns 10 be ere long in every village
and In every neighborhood a glowing pride ip
its martyred heroes. Tablets' shall preserve
their names. Pious love shall renew their in
scriptions as time and tho unfeeling elements
decay them. And tho national festivals shall
give multtudes of precious names TO the ora.
tor's lips. Children shall grow up under more
sacred Inspirations whose elder brothers, dy-
ing nobly for their country, left "a name that
honored and inspired all who bore it, Orphan
children shall find thousands Of fathers and
mothers To love and help those whom dying
heroes left as legacy to the gratitude of tho
public.
Oh, tell mo not that they arc dead, that gen.
erous host, that airy army OF invisible heroesi
They hover as cloud of witnesses above this
nation. Are they dead that yet speak louder
that wo can speak, and more universal Ian.
guageY Are they dead that yet act? Are they
dead that yet move upon society and inspire
the people with nobler motives and more no.
roic patriotism?
Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with
your tears. he was your son, but now he Is
the nations. He made your households bright.
Now his example inspires thousand house
holds Dear to his brothers and sisters, he Is
now brother to every generous youth In tho
land. Before he was narrowed, appropriated,
shut up ito you. Now he Is augmented, set
free and given to all. He has died from the
family that he might live to the nation. Not
one name shall be forgotten or neglected, and
1t shall by and by be confessed, as Of an an
cient hero, that he did moro for his country,
by his death than by his whole life.
Henry Ward Beecher.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29
Is Your
Blood Pure

II it is,,you will be strong, vigor.
GUS, full of life and ambition; you
will have q good appetite and good
digestion; your sleep will Be sound
and refreshing; your nerves will be
strong;. You will have little need to
fear disease in any form.
But how few can say that their
blood is purel How many people
are suffering daily from the conse-
quences Of impure blood, scrofula, salt
rheum, rheumatism, catorrh, nervous
nesss sleeplessness, headache, and
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29
FROM THE FRONT.

copyright, 1895, by American Press Associs~
ton.
1t was two story frame house,
painted white and with green blinds,
and it stood little way back from
the road that wound through narrow
valley between low hills of second
growth timber. In front of the house
was a big, heavily fruited cherry tree.
A boy was perched upon ladder
among the branches, filling a tin pail
with the ruby fruit, his fingers flying as
if he were competing with the birds,
who seemed to think they had mort
gage OH all tho cherries in the neighbor-
hood. But his haste had another cause.
His mother had but moment before
told him that when he had filled the pail
three times he might go to the postoffice,
mile farther down the valley, and in
quire for the mail.
The boy knew his mother to be quito
as anxious as he that the trip should be
made to the postoffice. For more than q
week his daily visit after the mail had
been fruitless, and he was certain she
Wao WILL Ing, AL opitO Va HCl tlI
of cheerfulness, for the head of the lit
tie family was at the front, wearing
blue uniform, and vague rumors were
atioat Of bloody battle in Pennsylva-
MIA.
SinguIarly enough, the mail had late.
ly failed to bring newspapers as well as
letters, and it had not been possible to
borrow from the neighbors as usual. The
boy and his mother had not talked much
on the matter; but, whatever his mother
thought, he suspected bad news in the
papers-news that would explain why
there were no letters. He was impatient
to go to the postoffice, but he dreaded,
the visit, too, and this made him climb
down the ladder slowly when at lass
tho pail was filled for the third time.
AS his feet touched the earth he heard
the rattle of wheels, and looking around
he saw Deacon Nelson's big bay horse
and decent black democrat wagon, driven
by the deacon himself, draw near. The
aeacon's countenance, which was gen.
orally smiling and jolly, was very SOL
emn now. and the face Of the deacon's
wife, who sat ON the back seat under
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29


gingham parasol, was tear stained. As
the deacon slowly got out of the wagon
and tethered the horse be asked, with
fine show of cheerfulness:
HAS your mother heard from the
elder in day or two, John? No? Well,
Marthy and me was just driving by, and
we thought we'd make little visit, you
see, Just to ask how your corn crop was
getting ON, you know" Then, to his
wife In an undertone, bo said: Now,
DO careful, Marthy. It's all right; it's
all right. It must be all right, 1 tell
you"
The deacon was ono Of tho chief pill
lars I'm tho church Of which the boys ia
ther, before going to the front, had been
pastor, and, like all in that neighborhood
and similar neighborhoods, the deacon
always spoke of his minister rs "tho
elder" This minister had been out
spoken in his patriotism during tho first
year of the war. During the second ho
had induced many Of the ncighborhood's
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

sbiebodie6 nsu TO enlist EarIy IA the
third he had himself marched sway as
eheir captain. with the young men from
his own congregation who had offered
themselves to their country. If che boy
was doubtful about his fathers safety
before the deacon spoke, no was not aft
erward. Ii seemed TO his young mind as
II the deacon has said between his audi
bile words
"The elder IA killed, boyi Do you
hear? Killedp'
John hurried into tho house with hia
pail Of cherries, kissed his mother and
started on run for the postoffice 1t
was hot day, but he did not mind the
heat. 1t is doubtful IL he knew it was
hot. He thought only of the bare possi-
bility that he might get aletter address
ed to his mother or himself In his IA
theirs dear handwriting, and no ran till
nature was exhausted and he had to
stop and rest under the shadow of big
buttonball tree by the side Of the road.
When he had regained his breath, he
started on again, but this time at q
more moderate pace, and as he ap-
preached the little general store where
the postoffice was kept his footsteps
Jagged. He was afraid he would receive
the same answer that he had for days
Nothing today, sonny Tell your
mother the papers missed this week.
No, there is no letter. swan, wish
there was.
That was just the answer the boy did
receive when at last he crept into tho
store between rows of two tined hay
forks and wooden hand rakes. but there
was this addition by the kindly old post
master to the dreaded words that told
the story Of no mail:
'"Tell your mother that we may get
another mail today, and if we do we'll
send anything that comes for you right
up"
There was no regular service to the
little postoffice, for no railroad ran
through the narrow valley, but the mail
was brought from the county seat, IL
miles distant, at intervals by any one
who went that way.
During tire boys weary homeward
tramp through the dust and under the
burning rays Of the sun he thought only
of how he should tell his mother there
was still no mail.
When he reached home, he found a
half dozen white haired farmers, all
clad in Sunday black, standing about the
yard under the shade of the trees. There
were no young or middle aged men
there, for all such in that neighborhood
lad gone to the war with their beloved |
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29


ther man nor devil, who led wherever
hope was most forlorn, who was always
where the fight was hottest, who fell at
last, a jest on his lips, struck to the
heart by southern bullet. A southern
er, too. by birth and education, but who
broke away from tradition and environ
ment and drew his sword in defense of
his country's flag.
II remember, now, his wife was
northern girl. Dennison used to talk of
his home up in the Alleghanies. And it
was here? And his grave is over there?"
The colonel strained his eyes toward the
graveyard. Just as soon as the crowd
gets away will 90 over and find it and
put few flowers on it Brave boy,
brave fellow. am 30 glad Tom wrote
me-"
Meantime the major had passed
through whirlwind Of passion and
sorrow alone in his room. What right
had this insolent, triumphant northern
er to stir him so? Why disturb those
depths in his bruised, aching old heart?
Over and over the southerner lived the
past, with its dreams Of glory, its futile
struggles, its cruel disappointments.
Again he saw the idol Of his boyish
dreams, as. vanquished, beaten, but still
heroic, he handed his conquered sword to
the victor. Again he saw his home de-
stroyed, himself poor, forced to accept a
menial position, drifting about. o bat
tered old wreck on the sea of life. until
he had fallen in with this man, whom he
had honestly liked and who had need.
lessly hurt him and opened the old
wounds afresh.
A knock at the door, and the majors
mail was handed him. As he looked it
over he saw letter, directed in the well
known writing Of his lawyer in Atlanta.
He broke 1t open and read il hurriedly.
Then he sank back in his chair, and
from his closed eyes large tears slowly
dropped down over his Scared face.
The sentence which had so profound.
| ~ moved him was this: "She has left
her fortune to you, as her husband, your
brother, loved you So His grave IL In
the cemetery Of the very town where
you are now stopping"
The afternoon sun poured food of
dazzling light across the marble head.
stones. whose solemn rigidity was sof-
tened by garlands Of flowers. The crowd
had gone. Here and there stray visit
or yet wandered, reading the names cut
on the white stones The solemn, pur-
pie mountains were rose flushed by the
sunset. Up from the village came ut in.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

sQuadrons wheeling down the hill, the
artillery massing In the valley. the sig.
nal rockets piercing the sky. ! can hear
rhs bugle"-
He broke off suddenly. The major
had risen and was facing him. his dark
syes blazing, his face white and drawn
Don't bring it up, colonel, he said
hoarsely. II can't tell you how it makes
me feel. Do you suppose that ], too, do
not go back to those days, to all suf-
fered then and since? l have reprossod
my emotions for years. But the volcano
is here, ;" touching his breast II do not
wish 1t to break forth"
"It's a great idea, replied the colo
mel testify, "if cannot speak of night
scene in the late war without your fetch
ing me up so roundly. ! did not dream
you had SO bad q temper, sir"
my temper Is as even as yours, sir, "
retorted the major. 'but cane you see it
is hard enough for me to witness these
scenes today without having the whole
CHASTITY panorama again unfolded before
me by your thoughtlessness, sir?"
The colonel lost his head. "Damme,"
he cried. ''you rebels never like to hear
anything for your good"
II beg your pardon, sir" said the
major with ominous calmness, "did you
apply that term to me?'
81 did"
II am not rebel, SIR" choked the
major. II fought for hopeless-a SUBJ
lime-oause. But now l support the
same flag you fought under. Remember
that! After this, Of course, we will not
have the honor of each others acquaint-
ance," and with naughty bow the
major walked into the hotel.
The colonel thumped his cane ON the
floor of the piazza. His face flushed.
"Devilish hot headed southerner, "he
said, "and yet charming fellow.
What companion he has been to me!
What a game of cribbage he playedi
And now to 60 and spoil everything.
Dear, dear; it's too bad. How I shall
miss himp
AS the colonel ruefully contemplated
the future boy approached him with
his mail. Eagerly seizing his letters he |
sat down to read them and to forget the
unpleasant episode as quickly as pos
,ible.
One Of his letters was from an old
army friend, a man with whom he had
Sept up an acquaintance born in fire and
smoke. A sentence in the letter ran as
follows: Curious thing you should be
n Halle Wells ON Memorial day. That
vas Dennison's wife's home and am
ure he is buried in the cemetery there.
You must throw a flower on his grave
or me"
Tho colonel dropped the letter in
Dennison! Ont of the past
here rose beautiful figure. with fear
ess eyes, resolute lips, soft, fair hair,
ay. good humored, smiling face and
eckless, audacious air. What rare fell
DIV he wasl Dennison, who feared nei.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29
COLONEL AND MAJOR.

Copyright, 1895, by American Press Associa
tion.l
The colonel and the major sat on the
hotel piazza playing oribbage
The soft, balmy spring breeze now
and then bore to their hearing the bla-
tant fanfare of trumpets or the roll of
drums. Everywhere their eyes were sa-
luted by the fluttering folds of the stars
and stripes. Occasionally they stopped
in their game to look at pretty little girls
walking by, dressed in white, their tiny
arms filled with wreaths and bouquets,
or at the wagons rolling in from the
country laden with men and women,
fastening to attend the services which
were to be held in the quiet village
graveyard on the hill yonder, where
many dead heroes slept.
1t was an ideal Memorial day. The
sky was clear as crystal and blue as
sapphires. Here and there it was loving
ly kissed by soft, fleecy clouds. Birds
were pouring forth showers of melody
from the trees. gay in their young spring
livery.
The little town at the foot of the
mountains, lying purple in the soft,
swimming sunlight, had taken OH an air
OF almost joyous festivity. The cheerful
voices, the flowers, the white dresses,
the flags and bunting conspired to rem
der the scene one more like fete than
remembrance. Only the solemn roll of
the drums at distance reminded the
two old warriors looking ON at the pag-
cant what the day meant.
The colonel rose and walked to the
: end Of the piazza and leaning against one
of the pillars stood there in thoughtful
silence. The colonel limped little
when he walked. He had carried bull
let in his thigh since Gettysburg.
The major, turning in his chair, re-
garded his friend. The light, striking
his fine old face, showed the ragged
scar of a saber cut he got at Fredericks-
burg. The two manned old fellows had
not known each other long. Both bad
drifted to this little mountain resort to
drink the waters, famous fQE their medic
inal properties. They had met in the
hotel, struck up friendship, walked,
talked and played oribbage together.
Though both had fought in the civil
war. they tacitly tabooed the subject,
for the colonel had fought like devil
ON the northern side, and the major had
fought like tiger on the side of the lost
cause
But now the chords Of memory were
strangely stirred. Up through the dark
1r trees guarding the cemetery there
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

Our duty would be very incomplete{y
done il we contented ourselves by mere
ly chanting hosannahs to- those who in
the past have given their lives to aid in
achieving these grand results unless we
can catch some inspiration to further
duty from the contemplation Of their
sublime self sacrifice. 1t becomes us,
the living, to address ourselves with re-
newed energy and enlarged faithfulness
to the preservation and perpetuation Of
these grand results. s.-Clinton Lloyd.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

Soldiers, who freely for our country's glory.
Upheld our flag on southern hill and plain,.,
Long may your deeds be told in grateful storyy
Ye have not lived in vain.
Hzothers, who fought for more than empty
honor
That all our land united might be free,
Nay shine forevermore,upen our banner
Each star for liberty
Heroes, who toiled. thnangh all the dusty
marches
And life surrendered ON those shot plowed
fields,
To ye who fed where the blue sky o'erarnhes
Tribute nation yields.
William Fl. Ranla1l
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29


preacher. As the boy entered the yard
one of the men hastily stuck newspa-
per, from which no had been reading to
the others, into his pocket
In the little parlor of the white house
there were several women younger than
Deacon Nelson s wife. Their husbands
were soldiers, too and at tho front with
the preacher. The boys mother was sit
ting in the center of circle of kneeling
women, her eyes set and fearless, but
there was sound of subdued sobbing
from some Of the others. The deacon
was just beginning a prayer.
Dear Lord, our heavenly Father,y"'
quavered tho deacon in tender and rev.
erent tones. Then he stopped. What
was that?
The boys ear was not the only one
that caught the sound Of fife and drum,
the fife playing merrily, "Rally Round
the Flag, Boys, Rally Once Again'--
you know how it sounds, reader-while
the drumsticks were beating out the
time in lively measure
A moment more. and the rattle of a.
wagon coming down stony slope, in
the road was heard Then there was a
cheer, and the fifa and drum changed to
yankee Doolle." Presently tho wagon.
in which sat ths postmaster himself.
the blacksmith. the cooper andthe boys
who were playing the fife and drum
drove noisily mp The old postmaster al
most fell OUT of the wagon andstumbled
up the path, TO, tho door. Hs,was quite
breathless, bnh he held aloft in his hand
big yellow envelope.
cts from the elder, brethrent It's
from the elder!'' he gaspedI II know
his handwriting, and the. postmark is
since the battle. Open it,. ma'am." he
said to- the boys mother.. "and read it
out"
Everybody gathered around her as she
took the missive, but it wasn't opened
just yet, for she tainted before she could
cut the envelope. It was not long. 1t
said:
DEAR WIFE AND Son JoHN-I have
been hurt little and lay on the field all
night, but it is not serious. and shall
not even have to 60 10, the hospital. So
do not be worried. We have won q
great victory, and our God will keep mo
safely to the end aud bring as all togeth-
or again.
Lot us sing the Doxology, Praise
God, from whom all blessings flow,'
said Deacon Nelson, while his eyes
streamed. Then they all sang with the
spirit and the understanding also. When
the singing was over, the newspaper
that had been hidden from the boy was
brought out. It told of the battloof Get.
tysburg, and the name Of tho elder was
In the list Of tho missing
Tho elder did live to come homo again,
and on every Decoration day since tho
establishment OF that beautiful holiday
no has mado talk over the soldiers
graves in tho little cemetery back Of tho
church In tho valley. Of which no Is still
| pastor. I. ID. MARSHALL.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29
That
Tired Feeling

Hoods Sarsaparifla purifies, vitalizes
and enriches the blood. Therefore,
it Is the medicine for you.
1t will give you pure, rich, red
blood and strong nerves.
twill overcome that tired feeling,
create an appetite, give refreshing
sleep and make you strong.
Is not this just what you want2
Then take Hoods Sarsaparilla. It
is the best building up medicine.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

OH brothers, tho days grow longer, and the
nights like glory shine,
And the love of our souls is stronger than the
heat and the fire of wine.
We were foes when the guns were frowning
from the walls that were grim and steep.
Now the grass and tho blossoms are crowning
the graves where our heroes sleep,
And the years with purpose are pregnant.
though our swords are red with rust
And right in the world Is regnant, and wrong
Ies prone n the dust.
Thomas s. Collier.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

o my country, my country Heart Of my
heart and life of my life! Dye dead who
died in our defense, whose eagle eye grew dim
in the smoke Of battle, and whose brave hearts
stopped beating at the canDon's mouth The
sons and daughters Of America will not forget
theel You, my comrades, have two immortal
tiles. One you will take with you beyond the
stars. The other will live forever in the deeds
you have done, in the glorious flag and gov
ernment you have done so much to honor and
preserved Rev. IL. Stone Richardson.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

II silence be ever golden, IL must DO
here beside the graves Of these 10, 600
soldiers, whose lives were more signifi-
cant than speech and whose death was q
poem the music Of which was never
sung. Speech at Arlington.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

When slowly falls the curtain OF the night
And none Is here except the silent dead;
When pales the western sky In dying light
And ashcn grayness comes In crimson's
stead,
Then will we know each buried hero tranquil.
ly reposes
Midst memories Of music and remembrances
Of roses
-E. M. Taber.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

They sleep so calm and stately.
Each in his graveyard bed,
1t scarcely seems that lately
They trod the fields blood red
With fearless tread.
They marched and never halted
They scaled the parapet.
The triple lines assaulted
And paid without regret
The final debt.
The debt of slow acoruing
A guilty nation made;
The debt of evil doing,
OF justice long delayed
Twas this they paid.
Theodore T.. Cook.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29
The Nation Mourn. n. Patriots.

When king is detbroned. the people
rejoice. but when a patriot dies a ma.
tion mourDs. &C. w. Atkinson.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

Rest on, cmbalmed and sainted dead.
Dear was the blood you gave.
No impious footsteps here shall tread
The heritage Of your grave.
Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-05-29

gssutiful TriA~ites and Gress Thoughts ~
rost and Sage
Sleep comrades, sloop and post,
On this field of the grounded arms,
Who're foes mo- more molest
Nor sentry's shot alarms.
Your silent tonts OF green
We deck with fragrant ilowea.
Yours has tho suffering boen;
The memory shall be ours.
III. w. Longfellow.